Living in a Shadow
by Jerrath92
Summary: Daryl Dixon went back for his brother because when he admitted it to himself, Merle was all he had left in a world abandoned by humanity, but perhaps trying to save his brother wasn't exactly beneficial to surviving. M for lang, violence, gore. Reviews are much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1: Blood Boiling

Pounding up the steps to the rooftop, Daryl had his crossbow ready, for what, he didn't know. Behind him Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn were having trouble keeping up, but he could have cared less. They'd have plenty of time to catch their breaths after Daryl got to Merle. Once he reached the top of the stairs he stood aside to allow T-Dog room to snap the padlock and chains with Dale's cutters. As T-Dog pulled the chain through, Daryl gave it a hard kick and it swung open, rebounding off the wall behind it. He shoved his way past Rick and Glenn, calling out, "Merle!" Sprinting across the cage walk, he hurried down the steps but came to a dead stop at the bottom, staring at the spot straight ahead where his brother should have been. Instead there was a blood-stained hacksaw lying in a pool of blood and beside it was a severed right hand just beneath a red and silver handcuff.

Daryl felt a cold chill shrivel down his spine and an iron fist clench around his heart as he fell to his knees. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes and he hugged an arm around his stomach as Rick and T-Dog came down to stand beside him. Possessed by an uncontrollable anger, Daryl leapt to his feet and turned his crossbow on T-Dog, aiming straight for the bridge of his nose. To his right he heard the unmistakable click of the Colt Python being cocked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rick stare him down, his face oddly calm.

"I won't hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

The small town officer wasn't bullshitting, Daryl knew. Despite his pounding heart and boiling blood, he valued his life far too much to risk it on a moment's worth of revenge. Blinking hard, he lowered his crossbow, but still felt hatred stirring deep within him. The bastards had left his brother without any reassurance that they would return for him and so Merle, being the hard-ass that he was, had gone and sawed off his hand rather than wait for an absolution that he didn't know was coming.

_T'hell with all y'all._

"You got a do-rag or somethin'?" he asked T-Dog with the tiniest quaver in his voice.

T-Dog reached into his back pocket and pulled out a navy blue bandanna which he reluctantly handed over to Daryl. Waving the folds out, Daryl laid the bandanna out flat and bent over to pick up Merle's hand by the space between the forefinger and thumb, though he was cautious with it, for even if it was his brother's hand, it was still quite disgusting to be handling it.

"I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuff. Ain't that a bitch." Folding the hand into the bandanna neatly, he placed it gently in Glenn's backpack for safekeeping. For all he knew, this was the only and last bit of his brother he would ever see and he sure as hell wasn't going to go anywhere without it. If he didn't find Merle, this would have to substitute for a body whenever he had time to dig a grave. Picking up his crossbow, he followed the blood trail across the roof, taking in the color, the size of the puddles, and the amount.

"What've you got there?" asked Rick, following closely behind.

"He must've used a tourniquet—maybe his belt. There'd be much more blood if he didn't," said Daryl, feeling a small amount of relief that Merle was sane and sensible enough to stop off the blood flow as best as he could. "And you say you confiscated his coke?" Daryl asked Rick.

"Yes, that's part've the reason why we left him," said Rick. "He was hyped up and that's what brought him over the edge."

"Yeah, well I told 'im that shit would get 'im trouble one've these days, but he don't listen to me none. I'll bet he was real pissed when y'did that. R'mind me to burn his stash when we get back to camp 'cuz if drugs are the reason he got left in the first place then he don't deserve to get 'em back."

Daryl tracked the blood trail to a door on the far end of the roof that was wide open. It led to a half spiral staircase made of metal rather than concrete like the other one. "Merle, you in here?" he called, receiving what he expected which was nothing. He passed through another doorway which gave way from construction-looking equipment to an office area furnished in dull, uninteresting colors. On his left he saw a female walker revolve slowly on the spot at the sound of his footsteps. The walker's tongue had been partially ripped out of its mouth and its entire lower jaw was one ugly mess, but Daryl dispatched it with a quick shot to its forehead. He pulled his arrow out of the unmoving head. Around the corner he saw two more walkers lying dead (again) with hits to their craniums and beside the one furthest from Daryl was a monkey wrench which Merle had apparently used to beat the damn thing's skull in.

"Had enough in 'im to take out these two sons've bitches one-handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer and he'd crap out nails." Daryl said it with conviction and pride. If there was one thing he was proud of Merle for, it would be his inability to quit on life and Rick's next comment couldn't quash his hopes that his brother was still alive.

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is."

_Which means you wouldda passed out right next to the pipe if it was you who'd been left to rot in hell and saw off your own hand, _thought Daryl darkly.

They continued on into a staff kitchen area that looked as if it had been raided for any useful supplies. Daryl got a jolt in his stomach like you get when you know that something is waiting for you close by, though whether it's good or not, you don't know. He was about to find something, he knew.

"Merle?" he called loudly.

"We're not alone here, remember?" said Rick quietly with a bit of authority.

Daryl scoffed. "Screw that. He could be bleeding out, you said so yourself and if he's even slightly conscious, hearing my voice will make him call out to me." He saw that the stove had been left on—a careless decision on Merle's part because he could very well have burnt down the whole damn building with him inside it—and the small fires burned blue. Merle had made quite a mess of things by rummaging through the cabinets looking for something. Rick picked up a pressing iron and held it up to the light, wrinkling his nose slightly in disgust.

"What's that burnt stuff?" asked Glenn, referring to the brown, tan, and red flecks stuck on the flat side of the iron.

"Skin," said Rick, setting the iron down. "He cauterized the stump."

_I'll be damned, Merle._ "Toldja he was tough. Nobody can kill Merle but Merle." Daryl spoke from experience because his and Merle's dad had tried. Now his heart was beating an imprint in his chest as a kind of excited terror filled him.

"Don't take that on faith; he's lost a lot of blood," Rick pointed out.

"You're a real killjoy, y'know that?" Daryl snapped. "He's here, I know he is. Merle! Merle, where are you, y'ugly bastard?"

"I dunno about you, but if someone was looking for me, I'm not sure I would answer them if they were calling me an ugly bastard," said T-Dog in an undertone.

"Me callin' him an ugly bastard is like you callin' your brother an honorable, well-groomed gentleman—if y'had one," said Daryl. It was true; Merle never paid Daryl a single compliment and Daryl had learned to interpret his insults. "Merle!"

"If you keep yelling, you'll bring walkers around for miles and I don't want to have to leave you behind this time if we're ambushed again," said Glenn frantically.

Daryl jogged down the hallway, following the single bloody boot print. He rounded another corner which gave way to a dark, windowless corridor. Seeing the shape of a leg on the floor, Daryl cautiously approached the body, kicking at it with his toe. He squatted down and patted his hand along the body's back, feeling the material and trying to remember what his brother had been wearing. His fingers touched cool leather and then sweaty skin. With a leap in his heart, he felt around for the hands and found a right one with relaxed fingers. From the position the body was laying, the left arm would be supporting the head slightly since the body was tilted onto the left side. Daryl leaned over and felt something dry on the right forearm before he felt—nothing. Where the hand should have been there was nothing but a stump.

"It's him, I found 'im!" he cried, choking on tears of relief. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder and grabbed hold of Merle's wrists as Rick and T-Dog took hold of his brother's ankles and together the three of them carried him backwards into the light. Daryl examined his brother's face which was very pale from blood loss, yet also burnt from sun exposure and bits of his skin had peeled off. His lips were cracked and split, revealing blood. Touching two fingers to the side of Merle's jugular, Daryl felt a faint pulse. "He's alive."

"We need to get him out've here, then," said T-Dog.

"We still have to get the guns, that's half the reason we came back," said Rick. "I suggest we take Merle back to the van and then double back for the guns. I know no one wants to do that, but if we get into a tight spot with the walkers, carrying him will only slow us down. Any objections?"

"If that's the best plan you got, then no," said Daryl. Now that he had found Merle, he felt more willing to go along with Rick's decisions. Besides his brother and life, artillery was what he cared most about.

%%%

Getting Merle to the van was hell. Daryl and Rick carried his upper body and T-Dog took his legs as Glenn covered them. At one point Daryl had to let go of his brother to shoot his crossbow in place of a bullet, resulting in Merle striking his shoulder on the pavement.

"Man, would it kill ya to drop a few pounds?" he complained aloud as the four of them staggered, puffing for breath towards the van. When they had finally reached it, Daryl propped Merle's head up on a few rags. He patted Merle's broad chest, whispering for only his brother to hear—or, perhaps, not, "Just stay put this time, 'kay? I'll be back." He rolled down the back door and bolted it for good measure.

They jogged back to the alley where they had a clear view of the tank and bag of guns. The number of walkers was less than twenty, but that did little to comfort them. Glenn offered to make a run for the bag, but Daryl shut him down by pointing out that he had no weapon and that even if he did, he wouldn't know how to use it. "You may be a skinny-ass track runner, but y'ain't experienced like I am. I'll go. Y'all just make sure to back me up."

"What if something happens to you and then Merle wakes up to find out his little brother got killed?" asked T-Dog.

"Ain't nothin' gonna happen t'me," said Daryl stubbornly. "Just watch my ass and don't you dare leave me hangin'." Without another word Daryl made a run for it, ducking and weaving to steer clear of walkers and their watchful gazes. The distance to the tank seemed like a mile when in actuality it couldn't have been half a block. He picked up his speed when he saw the gun bag and made more noise than was wise as his heavy footfalls echoed off the buildings, but in seconds he had grabbed hold of the bag strap and started making his way back towards the alley. However, unlike on his way from the alley, there was now a walker barring his way and he didn't have time to ready his crossbow. He went for the Busse Combat Blade and drove it into the walker's forehead, yanking it free without stopping. Once he was back inside the alley he had to steady himself by placing a hand on the wall. Though he would never admit it aloud, that small run had been absolutely terrifying.

"You okay, man?" asked T-Dog.

"I'll be fine, let's just get goin'," said Daryl, wheezing. He let Rick carry the bag of guns as they hurried back to the van. Once inside Daryl collapsed beside Merle who was still unconscious. He listened to Rick start the van and then felt the entire vehicle shift as they backed off of the railroad tracks. To Merle he whispered, "You'd better be worth it, y'dumbass."


	2. Chapter 2: Still a Loner

Daryl didn't know how they got back to camp when he half expected Merle to jolt awake at any moment, leap up, and start attacking the others out of pure resentment, but his brother didn't voluntarily move the entire trip. When the road got rougher and less even he slid around a bit, but by holding onto his ankle Daryl was able to keep him from bonking his head. Now that he had Merle, he wasn't exactly looking forward to the moment when he woke up, for his brother had always been known for his inability to control his temper and once he found that he was back in the camp full of people who had left him, he wasn't likely to be a happy camper. Throw in the fact that Daryl was planning on burning his drugs and he might as well chuck Merle out the back of the van now because it would be far less troublesome than having to deal with his brother in full rage. It was the six individuals who had left him behind that Merle would be looking to get revenge on and while Daryl had no loyalty to anyone in the camp besides his brother, he wouldn't condone violence against women. Daryl didn't really care if Merle took a beating to Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Morales's ass, but he wouldn't let his older brother do any harm to Andrea and Jacqui.

His thoughts came to an abrupt end as Rick put the van into park and informed them that they had arrived. Daryl opened the rolling door and turned to T-Dog. "Go ask that old man if we can put Merle on one've his beds 'til he wakes up. I want him inside instead've in a tent 'cuz this heat'll kill 'im."

"That _old man_'s name is Dale and you'd best start using it," said Rick disapprovingly. "I don't care what you call your brother, but you'll show the rest of us some respect. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get lost already, will ya?"

Rick grabbed Daryl's bicep and his grip was tight enough to make Daryl think twice. He didn't like it, but he knew that Rick was not going to put up with his mannerisms like how Shane had. He gave Rick as contemptuous of a look as he could and shook himself free. Rick raised an eyebrow in warning and then jumped out of the back of the van with Glenn and T-Dog. Daryl bent over and started dragging Merle towards the van's opening by holding onto his leather collar. Wiping sweat off of his upper lip, he looked under his arm to see Jim standing behind him. The tall, lanky man had dark gray sweat stains on the front of his white tank top and there were several droplets clinging to his cheeks, mingling with his rugged beard. He looked utterly woebegone but Daryl couldn't figure out what was so interesting about Merle that Jim would stand there staring.

"Look, if y'gonna just stand there gawkin' like an idiot, least y'could do is help out," Daryl grumbled, stepping off the tailgate and lugging Merle closer to haul him out. Jim reached over wordlessly and took Merle's legs and on the count of three from Daryl they lifted Merle, shuffling sideways to carry him to the RV where the old man—_Dale_, Daryl corrected himself—was waiting with paper towels to mop up any blood. Daryl backed up the steps and Jim lifted from the bottom. It was a tight squeeze getting Merle into the back room onto one of the two beds, but they just managed to fit him.

Taking a grateful swig from the canteen Jim offered him, Daryl swished the water in his mouth and then swallowed. "Hope Dale don't mind snorin' 'cuz Merle sleeps with a frog in 'is throat."

"That's my bed and I snore," said Jim quietly.

Daryl paused halfway through taking another drink. Looking around uncomfortably, he mumbled, "Uh, y'don't mind none, do you? 'Cuz I can haul his ass outta here and put 'im in our tent, but I just thought that with the heat, he'd recover quicker in here, y'know?"

Jim nodded and then walked away.

_Alright, good talk, y'awkward bastard._

Outside Rick was holding his wife and son in relief while nearby Glenn was conversing with two men and a woman whose names Daryl didn't know because he hadn't cared to find out. The less attached to people he got, the better because learning names was the first step in bonding and if someone got bitten or killed, it would only make matters worse. Try as he might, Daryl couldn't help but forming a relationship with Merle, but he still attempted to keep enough of a distance so that if Merle was killed it wouldn't affect him. Epic fail.

Andrea and her sister cautiously approached Daryl and he could read by their body expressions that they were nervous. "How is he?" asked Andrea, nodding at the RV.

"He should be fine, but he's lost a lotta blood," said Daryl tonelessly.

"Is it true, what Glenn said about him cutting his hand off?" asked Amy tentatively.

"Well, with bein' left f'dead, or so Merle thought, he was desperate t'get loose, so he did what he had to." Daryl didn't trouble himself to keep the accusation out of his voice as he addressed Andrea.

"Look, Daryl, I'm not going to try and beg forgiveness for what happened. Your brother was out of control and we panicked. It wasn't right, it wasn't human, and we're all sorry, but if we had had more time to think we wouldn't have left him. You seem more forgiving than your brother, so I hope that if you can understand what I'm trying to say, you might pass it on to Merle." Andrea looked so genuinely sorry that Daryl was hard pressed staying mad at her. After all, it hadn't been her executive decision to leave him and Merle was now rescued.

"I'll think 'bout it," he said at last.

Andrea gave him a weak smile and then jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at the main campfire. "Amy and I caught some fish for dinner tonight, if you're hungry." Her act of kindness took Daryl by surprise, but as his stomach gave a loud gurgle, he nodded.

"Livin' with Merle, I grew up hungry, so, yeah, count me in."

From behind him Dale stepped down out of the RV, wiping his hands on a bloodied rag. "Well, he cauterized the stump really well, but I don't think he'll be up and about anytime soon. I'll keep an eye on him, though."

"Good to know," said Daryl, which he thought was a satisfactory replacement for saying "thanks".

Glenn came over with the two men and woman who looked a bit uneasy, but also stern. The taller of the two men had dark chocolate brown hair and rather disapproving eyes. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse and underused.

"We were just talking about your brother," he stated.

"Yeah, well who the hell're you?" Daryl asked.

"Zeke Toblerone," said the dark haired man. When Daryl gave a bit of a snort, Zeke scowled. "And I get enough crap for my name as it is, so shut your face." Daryl, however, couldn't help himself and the fact that the man had a hair color just like Toblerone chocolate didn't help.

"Keep talking to him like that and this conversation will go nowhere," said the woman who had striking resemblance to Zeke, revealing that she could only be his sister. She saw Daryl looking at her and held out her hand. "Sonya Toblerone, now get your laugh out and then control yourself so that we can settle this."

"Settle what?" asked Daryl, briefly shaking her hand.

"The fact that your brother, who caused enough trouble when he had two hands and crack cocaine, is now back and most likely to be well beyond pissed off when he wakes up," said the other man with the rather long nose. "You'd best start thinking of a way to control him when he realizes where he is."

"This is Sedgwick Garner," said Zeke, looking rather embarrassed. "You'll have to excuse him; he speaks his mind and sometimes his mind is stuck up his ass."

"I don't gotta excuse nothin'," said Daryl bad naturedly. "Officer Rick over there tells me that he wants me t'respect y'all, but I don't see the point if y'gonna treat me'n my brother like this. He ain't been back twenty minutes and y'all're actin' like he's been bit and he's gonna go on a murderin' rampage. And y'wonder why I don't get 'long with anyone here? Take a wild guess as t'why that is."

"Oh, come on, pal, you know that he's going to have a fit when he wakes up and we're just trying to avoid an argument which is why we're appealing to you," said Sedgwick. "We're hoping that your brother will at least listen to you."

"Yeah, well that makes two've us 'cuz he's never been one to listen to what I got to say. I'm all for givin' it a try, but I ain't makin' no promises."

"See, I told you all you had to do was ask," Sonya murmured to Zeke and to Daryl added, "Thank you for cooperating."

The three of them walked off to their own tent, leaving Daryl standing in the shade of the RV and considering the fact that people were actually decent, something he had not learned with having Merle as a big brother.

%%%

Though he wasn't one much for cozy get togethers and singing campfire songs, Daryl thought he could risk sitting down with the big group around one of the fires that night. He had checked in on Merle who had opened his eyes halfway for perhaps ten seconds before passing out again. He saw the big guy Ed—Pelter or Peeler, or whatever the hell his last name was—sulking as always with his wife and daughter sitting apart from him. Besides Merle, Ed had one of the worst attitudes in the camp and Daryl absolutely hated the bastard. He had seen the bruises on his wife's face and arms, but it wasn't Daryl's place to interfere, plus, he didn't take to the idea of causing any more trouble with the dumbass than he already had when he had taken the last water canteen a few weeks back. Merle hadn't seen the death glare Ed gave Daryl, thank God, otherwise both brothers would've been chucked out of camp because Ed would have had to find someone to reconstruct his face after they got through with him. But Daryl promised himself that if he ever saw Ed strike anyone, he would give the schoolyard bully a piece of his mind. The only person bigger than Ed in the camp was Vin Mosley, standing at nearly six and a half feet tall, but though Vin was a giant and Daryl had seen his strength, he was almost as quiet as Jim and not likely to get involved in any sort of fight.

Andrea passed Daryl the plate of well cooked fish, and after living off of a diet of squirrels for nearly a month, he accepted the fish with so much enthusiasm that he bit a huge chunk out of it without using his fork or even waiting for it to cool down. He burnt his tongue, but the taste was almost overwhelmingly wonderful that he really didn't care. He didn't listen much to the conversation around him, but felt a hopeless sense of loneliness when he heard the others laughing. As they exchanged stories, gathering close to one another, and smiled to no end, Daryl's appetite lessened until his half finished fish no longer looked appetizing. Standing up, he tipped the rest of his meal onto Rick's son's plate, gathered up his crossbow, and headed back towards his tent. Exhausted from the day's events, he collapsed on his unmade bed.

In his nightmare he heard someone screaming but as he gave a twitch and woke himself up, the screaming continued and he realized that it was coming from Ed Peeler's tent just next door. Grabbing his knife and crossbow, he unzipped the door and ran around to the back where he saw Dale, Jim, Shane, and Ed preparing to take out three walkers that were looming out of the early morning gray as Ed's wife and daughter stood in their pajamas nearby. Shane started clubbing away at the nearest one while Dale and Jim took on another, but as the last one advanced on Jim's exposed back, Ed froze up, bat held loosely in his large, meaty hands.

"Peeler, what the hell're you waitin' for?" Daryl shouted. "Kill that damn thing!"

Either Ed didn't hear him or was just too much in shock (possibly still groggy from having just woken up) to react. Daryl elbowed him out of the way, tucked his knife into its scabbard and seizing the bat, began whacking at the walker that had extended a hand to grab onto Jim's short sleeved over shirt. He saw blood squirt upward as the bat caved the skull in, but he gave the walker a few more thwacks for good measure. Shoving the bat back at Ed, he asked, "What the hell's the matter with you, Peeler? Y'don't need no education t'know that iss common sense t'kill a walker!"

Daryl's insult brought Ed back to his senses and he frowned as he picked up his bat. "Well, I guess you ain't no man of education neither 'cuz my name sure's hell ain't Peeler."

"I don't care what your name is, tough guy, y'almost let that walker get Jim here."

"And what're you gonna do about it, huh?" asked Ed, coming within half a foot of Daryl so that he had to look upward into Ed's ugly face.

"He's not going to do anything," said Dale, coming between the two. "It's nothing, Ed, just let it go." Jim came to Dale's side as backup, but made the mistake of trying to separate Daryl and Ed. In empty anger, Ed gave Jim a hard shove in his chest, shouting, "Don't you put your hands on me!"

Daryl's hand flew to his knife but Dale put a hand on his wrist. "Not now, son, don't do it. Think first, _think_."

Ed gave Daryl a sneer and walked back to his tent, but as he went Daryl shot him the middle finger and spat on the ground. "I like that guy 'bout as much as I like shit-flavored popsicles," he said angrily.

"Ed's not worth your time, Daryl," said Dale lightly. "He wouldn't last two seconds against you and you know it, so just let him bitch and moan all he wants. And by the way, his name's Ed Peletier, and you'd best get it right next time."

Daryl felt slightly taken back. If Dale thought that Daryl was more than a match for Ed Peeler—or whatever the hell he was called—that was the first compliment he had gotten from anyone in the camp.


	3. Chapter 3: Flat Tire

"Daryl, your brother's awake," said Dale.

Daryl's head perked up as he finished helping Jim and T-Dog tie off a line of cans to warn them of approaching walkers. They had been at it since breakfast and now that the heat of the day was upon them they were considering going wading in the pool beside the quarry. Not sure whether he should be feeling nervous or excited that Merle was finally conscious, Daryl hurried up to the RV, wiping sweat off of his brow as he entered the slightly cooler atmosphere and took a knee beside Jim's—now Merle's—bed. His brother had his eyes closed, but his left hand was covering his eyes as if to block out the light.

"Merle, can y'hear me?" Daryl asked.

Through his fingers Daryl saw Merle open one eye and then close it. "Yeah, I can, now shuddap."

"Do you remember what happened?" Daryl continued, ignoring him.

"Closed up the stump…made it down the hall…thass all I r'member," said Merle groggily. "Git me some water, will ya?" Daryl found a half empty cup of water on the sink and offered it to Merle who gulped it down and choked. Sitting his brother up, Daryl thumped his back, reprimanding him.

"Well, don't kill y'self, y'dumbass."

"Screw you," Merle coughed, sitting back against the pillows. He held the stump up to his eyes and swore.

"We went back f'you, bro," said Daryl, and then deciding that he might as well explain everything right, added, "T-Dog padlocked the door so the walkers couldn't get t'you. They were plannin' on goin' back f'you soon as they got some artillery. Y'couldda waited, y'know."

"You juss shut up," said Merle, taking the room into view. "Where the hell am I?"

"We brought y'back t'camp and put you in Dale's RV. You lost a lotta blood and y'gotta take it easy for a bit."

"Take it easy, my ass-," said Merle, trying to stand up, but Daryl gave him a bit of a rough push so that he hit the bed again.

"What'd y'ever do 'round camp anyway 'sides complain and make life harder f'everyone, Merle? It won't hurt y'none to just stay put and recuperate. Once y'get some color back in y'face, then you can go and do whatever the hell y'want, but right now you're still lily-white and y'ain't goin' nowhere 'till I say y'are. And that reminds me, everyone went back f'you so you ain't got no reason t'hold a grudge, hear me?" It couldn't hurt to tell a white lie. Making it sound as if everyone who had left him on the roof had also risked their lives to go back for him might just ease off some of the tension Merle was most likely feeling.

Merle, however, looked skeptical. "Did they, now? Well, ain't that a pretty picture? Why would they all go back f'me? I thought I was juss dumb white trash that they's glad t'be rid of?"

"We got more guns and everyone took one t'go back and get you. I told 'em I was goin' t'find you and then everyone volunteered t'come with me. We picked up the bag've guns Rick dropped in the street."

"Hang on, juss who the hell's Rick?"

"Officer," said Daryl plainly. "Like Shane…"

"Y'mean that asshole who chained me to the damn roof in the first place?" asked Merle, nostrils flaring dangerously.

"Yeah, and he's the one who got the bag so that we could clear the buildin' out and get t'you. Now just give it a rest, okay? We went back, we gotcha, and we brought you here, so f'once just be grateful. A hand's a small price t'pay for bein' alive, innet? And stayin' b'hind to put a padlock on the door wasn't an easy thing t'do with walkers swampin' the place. I don't wanna argue no more, alright?"

"Why?" asked Merle. "Think you'll lose?"

"No, I'm just dog-tired. Walkers got into camp this mornin' when I was sleepin' and I had to go help take care've 'em."

"Walkers this far up the mountain?" Merle repeated, eyes widening. "What the hell're walkers doin' so far out've the city?"

Daryl shrugged. "Beats me, but I gotta help set up more alarms in case more've 'em start comin' in."

"Well, don't leave me in here if y'are," said Merle indignantly. "'F I can't help, 'least I can do is git outta this damn bed, it smells like hell."

"It's not the bed, bro, it's your stump. I'll have Dale take a look at it. C'mon, then." Daryl helped Merle into a sitting position and then slung Merle's arm around his shoulders. They walked sideways past the small kitchen and down the steps where Vin and Shane were waiting to help Merle into a lounge chair under the makeshift lean-to's shade. The small move had drained any color that being awake had brought back to Merle's face and his cheeks puffed as he made a nasty noise in his throat. Daryl pulled Vin and Shane out of the way just as Merle turned sideways and was violently sick. The sound of vomit hitting the gravel made Daryl cringe and he offered a paper towel to Merle who wiped his mouth, looking very green.

"Damn, shit prob'ly tastes better'n that," he said feebly.

"Well, just take it easy here for now," said Shane as kindly as he could. "If you need anything, just holler, there's people all around." He turned to Daryl and added, "Damn tire popped on the Buick and they need some help. Zeke and Jim are already down there, but if we can't fix the tire or find a replacement, we're gonna have to help carry all that back up here. It's all dirty laundry—or, if the women are done cleaning it now, clean—but still…"

"Oh, so now I'm an errand boy for dirty laundry, eh?" asked Daryl, turning his lip down. "Great."

He followed Shane down to the quarry where Jim and Zeke were examining the tire on Ed's Buick while Lori, Andrea, Amy, and Ed's wife finished folding up the now clean laundry and putting the clothes into baskets. Meanwhile Ed was pacing around the quarry, puffing away on a cigarette and giving no hint that he was going to help at all even though it was his damn vehicle. When it became clear that it was going to take a while to repair the car, Shane sent Lori, Zeke, and Amy back to camp with the half of the laundry. Jim fiddled with this and that, muttering to himself in a voice that hardly qualified as audible. Shane stood back and talked with Andrea and Ed's wife and since Daryl could think of no way to help Jim unless he wanted to get in the way, he decided that he might as well become acquainted with the other woman. After all, if he was going to get involved in a fight if it came down to that—which it probably would—Daryl wanted a name to go along with a face and not just be protecting "Ed's wife". He discovered that her name was Carol and that her daughter was named Sophia and the list stopped there. She didn't say much and when she did, it was a timid word or two as if she were afraid Ed might hear her for she constantly looked over her shoulder to where her husband continued to meander around.

Finally, Jim came out from under the Buick and gave them the bad news. "Only way to fix the tire's to replace it with one from the Dodge."

"I'll go back and have Rick help me roll it down here," Shane offered. "Y'all just sit tight and I'll be right back. Andrea, if you and Carol wanna take some more laundry up, that'd be just fine, but if not, there's no sense in you hanging around anyway."

"We'll take a few loads," said Andrea. She picked up one basket and balanced another slightly smaller one on top of it while Carol took two baskets herself. The top one nearly fell off and Daryl put his arms under hers to support it.

"That one might be a lil' too heavy," he stated. "Put it down. I'll get the rest, so don't worry 'bout it."

"No, it's fine, I can get it," said Carol shyly.

"She don't need none've your help, Dixon, so gitcher hands off her," called Ed, stalking back towards them.

Daryl still had the basket in his hands, but Carol whispered urgently, "Let go, let _go_."

"Daryl, let go now," said Andrea, setting her own baskets down. "He's going to blow his top, just let it go."

At the last possible second Daryl let go, glaring at Ed who towered over him with his cigarette clenched between his teeth. "Yeah, that's right," he told Daryl and then snapped at Carol, "You go on and take those baskets, you ain't no weakling."

"Ed, the baskets are too heavy for one person to lift alone," Andrea defended.

"And you can stay outta this, y'high and mighty bitch," hissed Ed.

It was Daryl's turn to get up in Ed's face which he did with no fear whatsoever. He had gotten into fights with men half Ed's size with twice the power and if all Ed was good for was for hitting his wife, he shouldn't be hard to take down at all.

"Call her a bitch agin, I dare ya."

Ed took a big puff on his cigarette and blew the smoke straight into Daryl's face. Daryl's eyes watered, but he refused to blink as his hands bawled into fists. Andrea grabbed hold of his arm and gave a tug. "Leave it, Daryl. He's just pissed because his underwear didn't come clean."

Faster than even Daryl could react Ed's arm shot out and shoved Andrea so hard that she hit the ground with a loud thud despite it being gravel. Daryl raised his fist, but Andrea called him off and was back on her feet as she dumped the laundry with Ed's clothes onto the ground, wiping her shoes on them.

"You can wash your own damn clothes, you asshole," she said with a bit of a shake in her voice. Ed threw his cigarette down and crushed it under his heel. He approached Andrea who stood her ground but Daryl could see the fear mounting in her eyes.

"Pick up them clothes and wash 'em again," Ed ordered.

"In hell," Andrea retorted, and then Ed struck out at her. It wasn't a back-hand slap, but almost a punch as he used the full force of his palm to hit her across the face. Daryl went for his knife, but Jim got there first, hammering Ed over the head with a wrench. Ed whirled around and elbowed Jim hard in the gut, but the car mechanic brought his wrench down again, clipping Ed's ear. Ed packed in a square punch to Jim's jaw and then Daryl knocked Ed's legs out from under him, kicking him in the ribs and pulling out his knife.

"Just you try that agin, Peletier!" he hollered, brandishing the knife threateningly. "Go on, I dare ya to! Don't you move until Shane and Rick get back or you'll regret it." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim spit out a line of blood from between red-stained teeth and wipe his mouth on his sleeve. "Y'alright, Jim?"

"Fine," said Jim in that dull voice of his. He came around Ed to where Andrea had fallen for the second time and offered up his hand which she took and came to her feet, touching her face gingerly where Ed had struck her.

"Y'shouldda hit 'im harder, Jim," said Daryl with his eyes still on Ed who was giving him a very foul look indeed. He had meant to make Ed pay dearly if he struck someone again, but Jim had taken over and perhaps it was best that Daryl hadn't gotten in his punches, otherwise he'd be in some trouble with the lawmen. As Ed continued to regard him with pure loathing Daryl plotted against him.

_Yeah, go on lookin' fat'n ugly, pal. I'mma get you one've these days. You're gonna get yours._

Carol ushered Andrea away and they left the baskets as they trekked back to camp. Jim picked up his wrench and returned to the car without another word, leaving Daryl to watch Ed until he heard the sound of gravel crunching underfoot as Rick and Shane ran up to them. Daryl explained what had happened in Shane's absence and the looks on the officers' faces were not pretty as they forced Ed to his feet.

"Jim, leave the Buick for today, we'll finish this up tomorrow," Rick instructed. "Get on back to camp and have Dale take a look at you." As Jim went on his way, Daryl sheathed his Busse Combat Blade and eagerly watched Rick and Shane attend to Ed.

"I didn't see it, but I don't have to," said Shane in a dangerous whisper. "Hitting a woman's just dirty and low, but even thinking of putting your hands on a woman who's sticking up for your wife and daughter's outta line, Ed. You're lucky Jim got to you instead've me 'cuz I wouldda killed you. If it happens again, you're out. I'll turn you onto the road alone and you can see how much good bitch slapping will do against walkers, do I make myself clear?"

Ed didn't respond, looking like a rebellious teenager, albeit a rather large one, who had been told off by the teacher and threatened with expulsion. He would do it again, Daryl was sure of it. He would punish Carol and Sophia for the trouble he had gone through and the next chance he got, he'd get back at Jim and Andrea. But Daryl would be ready and if he knew his big brother, Merle would be ready too.


	4. Chapter 4: Rattling the Cans

Word spread quickly of Ed's attack on Andrea and it didn't help that her lip was swelling rapidly as the sun began to descend in the late afternoon. Jim, on the other hand, gave almost no sign that he had been attacked because he spoke to no one about it and continued working diligently on his can alarms. Even when Dale approached him to talk about the incident he gave the older man the cold shoulder, slowly roasting under the baking sun. Daryl took pity on him and started to string up more alarms, but Jim stopped and rested the backside of his hand against his hip as he considered Daryl.

"What're you doing?" he asked, breathing rather heavily.

"Givin' you a hand," said Daryl obviously. "Y'don't got a problem with that, do ya?"

"You don't have to be out here," said Jim.

"Neither do you, yet here y'are. C'mon, man, just let me do my thing and you can do yours. Consider it payment f'helpin' out with Ed."

"I just did what needed to be done."

"Well, y'got there b'fore I did and I mean damn quick. I'm sure Andrea's glad y'got there fast as y'did. Damn it, Jim, just take the compliment and get on with y'work." He and Jim continued to set up the cans in silence and by the time the sun had winked its last over the tops of the trees they had covered the majority of the camp. Sedgwick and Zeke had taken Merle back inside the RV and then gathered around the main campfire since Rick and Shane had called a meeting. Daryl was on his way to his tent when Andrea informed him that he was included in the meeting. Looking rather grave, Shane addressed them and their group consisted of everyone from the Atlanta scout party excluding Merle, but including Amy, Lori, Zeke, Sedgwick, Sonya, and Vin. It was difficult having everyone squeeze in together on stumps and overturned buckets, but they all managed to fit.

"I don't mean to put you in the spotlight, Andrea, but if there's anyone here who hasn't gotten a good look at her face, do it now. Ed Peletier hit her today and he hit Jim as well. There was no call for it. We all know that he abuses Carol and Sophia, but until now we haven't discussed it because it hasn't threatened any of us. Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I will not condone that man's behavior any longer. I want y'all to know that if he gives me reason to, I will put him down and personally drag him by the ear and throw him out onto the road where he will no longer be welcome in this camp. He's dangerous and foul-tempered-,"

"I don't mean to interrupt, but Merle's dangerous and foul-tempered too if someone crosses 'im," said Daryl, aware that all eyes had turned to him, including Andrea's who had seemed like she was avoiding him ever since the incident. "But Merle don't go 'round slappin' people just for the hell've it—at least, not when he's not on a high," he added as T-Dog made a doubtful snort. "In his right mind he can be dangerous if he needs to be and he's always in a bad mood, but he'd never hit a woman. My point is that we shouldn't wait 'round for Ed t'do it agin 'cuz we all _know_ he's gonna do it anyway. Why wait'n have someone else be the victim? I say run 'im outta here now while the casualties are only two fat pairs've lips and a bruised gut. Next time it could be worse."

"Well, I've considered that, Daryl, but the fact of the matter is that I didn't personally see it and therefore I don't have the authority to do anything. I try'n keep some sense of law and order out here and the only way I can do that is if I have visual proof with my own two eyes, which I don't."

Daryl scoffed. "Y'all're gonna regret it, mark m'words. You're just askin' for it if y'don't do something'."

"Well, seeing as how Andrea and Jim are the victims here, I think we should hear what they have to say," Jacqui suggested to murmurs of agreement.

Amy leaned her head on Andrea's shoulder and Dale patted her back comfortingly as she spoke up, but looked down. "I've had just about all of Ed as I can take, but I only got hit once. Carol and Sophia have to go through it every day. The longer he stays, the worse it'll be for them. Ed could've hit me like I was a man and I wouldn't have cared, but I can't stand to see him hurt his family anymore."

"Same here," said Jim simply.

"Well now, Jim, you didn't have to involve yourself in this in the first place," Dale pointed out. "From what Andrea tells me, Daryl was standing right there ready to charge in."

"Before today I would've said that they should work their marriage out themselves, but he's got no right to put his hands on anyone. I seen Andrea stand up to him, but I'd had enough when he touched her the second time. Just made me mad," said Jim, not meeting Andrea's eyes.

"Ed's twice your size and you hit him with a monkey wrench, Jim, that's pretty damn impressive," Shane laughed. "But after you come out've the fight you act like you're the one at fault. Ain't nothing to be ashamed of."

"Didn't say I was."

Daryl made a shushing noise as they saw Ed exit his tent a little ways off. After giving them a deliberate look, Ed dragged a large log into the fire. Shane stood up faster than anyone could have anticipated, eyes blazing. "Damn it, I told that bastard to keep the fire down before, but now he's deliberately doing it and he knows he's putting all've us at risk. He's doing it outta spite—he wouldn't care if walkers came here tonight and slaughtered us all."

"Then go pull it out," said Rick. "I'll back you up."

"Yeah, me too," Daryl offered, reaching for his crossbow.

Zeke and Sedgwick stood up to show their support and Sonya warned them to be careful.

"Now wait, y'all, if we all go, he's gonna think we're ganging up on him," said Shane quietly.

"Well, we are," Daryl reminded him.

"The more people, the more likely he is to fight back. Just let me'n Rick go and if we need backup, we'll call y'all over, alright? In the meantime, chatter 'mongst y'selves to make it look like you ain't talking about him."

Immediately Lori struck up conversation with Jacqui and Sonya while Morales and his wife began speaking adamantly with Glenn and T-Dog. Daryl watched Jim glance in Ed's direction and inconspicuously settle his bat on his legs. Zeke nudged Daryl in the knee and nodded at the RV.

"How do you think Merle would react to this?"

"Oh, I don't think; I know he wouldda just beat Ed's face in b'fore he asked questions, which is why I'm glad he's still indisposed at the moment. Sometimes thinkin' things through can actually help, but he's never quite grasped that concept. I know he wouldn't tolerate it, though. He'd prob'ly feel invincible if he was on a high, but I'm hopin' that he forgets 'bout them drugs for a while so that I can make up a good excuse for losin' 'em."

Despite how loudly everyone was conversing with each other, they could not block out the sound of Ed swearing as he dragged the log out of the fire, spat at Shane and Rick, and retreated to his tent. At almost the same time Sophia practically flew out the flap door and huddled underneath a blanket near the fire. Carol followed shortly after and put her arms around her daughter.

Jim relaxed his hand on his bat as Shane and Rick returned.

"Sounds like it went well," said Vin sarcastically.

"I told him three times to take the log out and I even said please," said Shane, folding his arms angrily across his chest.

"Yeah, well, Ed's real good at following direction anyway," Sedgwick added. "I say we just wait until morning and see if anything new happens."

"Knowing Ed, something _will_ happen," Amy piped up. "After what we just saw-,"

She stopped mid-sentence as the sound of cans clanking together reached their ears. Daryl and Jim rose at the same time and reached for their weapons. They had set up the cans earlier and knew exactly from which direction the noise was coming from. Shane, Vin, and T-Dog took off first and as they started down the hill, Ed poked his head out of his tent and called his family to him.

"Y'all come on in here, now."

"No, Carol, Sophia, come over here and stay close to the campfire," said Andrea. "Ed, if you want a walker taking a bite out of your ass, by all means, stay where you are, but you aren't going to bring your wife and daughter down with you."

"I tell you what, bitch, you're askin' for it again," Ed shouted, half-stepping out of his tent, but Jim pointed his bat warningly at Ed and the latter retreated back inside the tent, zipping it shut viciously as Carol and Sophia shuffled over to the main fire.

"Y'all stick in close," Daryl advised as he and Jim ran to catch up and then lead the others to the breached location. As they neared the spot, they could smell dead and rotting flesh and as they came upon the sight, they could see clearly why the stench was so strong. The walker caught in the tripwire was missing almost three quarters of its face and mosquitoes flew excitedly around the exposed muscles and tendons. Daryl didn't know whether the walker had been male or female, but it didn't matter. He would have used an arrow to put it down, but was afraid of losing it in the dark and so he stepped aside to allow Jim to take the first swing. He stood by and watched the others decapitate and then incapacitate it.

Stating the obvious, T-Dog remarked, "That's the third one in two days. We're gonna have to put up more alarms further down the hill."

"And what good'll that do?" asked Vin. "It's just more labor on our part, or I guess Jim's part since he's the one who puts them up."

"It would give us a longer heads up," Shane reasoned. "It's something to think about, but not tonight. Let's all just eat, get some sleep, and then discuss it in the morning."

"Yeah, 'cuz I'll bet everyone's real hungry after seein' this," said Daryl, trying not to breathe in through his nose. "I'll take a plate to Merle, but I ain't eatin'. I'd rather go t'bed hungry than try'n stomach somethin' that I know's just gonna come right back up."

"You paint a nice picture, Daryl," said Shane irritably.

Daryl fixed Merle a plate of whatever he could scrounge up in Dale's cupboard, but his brother had passed out again when he brought the plate into the back room. Setting the plastic plate down on the bedside table, he pressed his knuckles to Merle's forehead and checked for a fever. At his touch Merle stirred and peered at him through one eye again.

"Gitcher hands off me, boy, I ain't dyin'," he grumbled.

"No, but if you get a fever you could be, so don't gitcher testicles wound up in a knot."

"That general area've mine don't concern you at all."

"I fixed you a plate, so eat up and then go back t'sleep y'hard-ass."

"I'll go back t'sleep when I'm good'n ready, which I ain't."

"What's your opinion on Ed?" asked Daryl suddenly.

Merle paused with a cracker halfway to his mouth. "I think he's an idiot and an asshole, but y'already knew that, so why d'ya ask?"

"He took a swing at a woman today," said Daryl, not sure if he should mention any names. "Jim and I beat 'im back, but Shane considered drivin' 'im outta camp."

"And good riddance," said Merle with his mouth full of defrosted green beans.

"Well, no one's gonna do anythin' 'till Shane or Rick catch 'im in the act, but even Ed's smart 'nough t'avoid getting' caught. I just hope whoever he hits next is strong 'nough t'fight back, that's all I'm sayin'."

"Well, if he puts 'is damn hands on anyone else, and y'feel that y'absolutely gotta git y'self mixed up in all that shit, y'call out and I'll come out there and open up a bottle've whoop-ass on 'im, I don't care'f I puke up everythin' I've eaten since the world went to hell."

"If you do, you can't get too carried away or Shane'll throw _you_ out on the road," Daryl cautioned.

"I'd like to see 'im try," Merle chuckled. "I ain't the one goin' 'round gettin' slap-happy."

"Just mind who y'open that can've whoop-ass on," said Daryl as he rose and trudged off towards his tent. He saw Andrea and Amy consoling with Carol while the others slowly trickled off to their own abodes. T-Dog and Glenn had offered up their tent as a temporary resting place for Jim until Merle could move out of the RV. Vin was having a hushed conversation with Sedgwick and Zeke and Daryl caught himself thinking that he would very much like to see Vin go off on Ed with no holds barred. There would be no contest whatsoever.

Inside his tent he kicked off his shoes and set a wooden stake close at hand, laying back and watching a firefly drift lazily over the outside of the tent. He had seen many things since returning from his hunt, most of them bad, but the look on Jim's face when Ed had struck Andrea was one that he couldn't quite figure out and it left him wondering, lost in deep thought until his eyelids fluttered shut and he drifted off into the realm of troubled sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: The Introvert

"Daryl, get up, come on, get _up_!"

Squinting in the early morning light, Daryl lifted his head slightly, reached behind it, and grabbing his pillow, swiped out at the person who stood over him shaking him. "Go 'way. Can't you people just leave me the hell 'lone t'get some sleep?"

"Another walker got into camp last night after you went to sleep near the east end," said Dale, poking Daryl continuously. "Zeke and Sedge killed it, but it nearly got a woman—I don't know her name."

"Son've a bitch," Daryl moaned, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "How'd it get in so close?"

"The can alarms weren't up," Dale explained.

"Wait, wait, just hold on one damn second," said Daryl, suddenly wide awake. "Y'said on the east side've camp, by the empty lot?" When Dale confirmed, Daryl began pulling his boots on with newfound energy. "Jim and I made sure t'double up that area. There were cans all 'long there and if the walker got past that line without raisin' no alarm, that means someone took 'em down and I'll give ya three guesses who."

Dale looked horrified. "That's going too far. He wouldn't risk his own safety-,"

"Does anyone know what Ed would or wouldn't do?" Daryl snapped. "He's gone off the deep end, driven insane with rage at bein' showed up by a woman and a man who weighs 'least a hundred pounds less than 'im. That asshole took the cans down t'prove a point."

"Yes, but we can't prove it was him who took the cans down," said Dale miserably. "He wouldn't have left them in his tent; he would have taken them somewhere and buried them."

"So go dig 'em up, match 'is fingerprints, and get him the hell outta here," Daryl suggested.

Dale laughed heartily despite the situation. "Shane said he wanted law and order up here, but this isn't CSI Miami. We don't even have the equipment to pull that kind of a stunt off."

"Then I'd suggest y'keep a real close eye on 'im t'day while Jim and I go string up more alarms."

"Merle's going to want to help since he was already halfway out the door when I woke up and caught him. He's looking better, but he's still peaky and I wouldn't suggest giving him anything more strenuous than tying knots."

"Even that's too hard f'Merle to comprehend. Just leave 'im be. He can survive one more day in pure boredom. All we need is f'him t'get in the way and leave his yapper runnin'. Naw, the way I see it, we're only gonna catch this stealthy bastard if we play his dirty lil' game. Talk t'Shane and try'n figure somethin' out. Meanwhile, I'mma go get Jim up and start on them cans."

"Jim's already working," said Dale, and for some reason he looked solemn. "He goes to bed around two in the morning and wakes up at five. Ever since he came into camp he hasn't been sleeping well, he told me."

"Did he really tell ya or did y'just assume?"

"No, he told me outright, when I finally got him to talk."

"Is he just the world's biggest introvert or does he have a social problem?"

"He's just grieving, son. Everyone does it in their own way and while yours is to start attacking everything in sight, Jim's is to retreat into himself and block everyone out."

"Yeah? Well then what's yours?" Only afterwards did he realize how personal of a question that was. Before he could apologize, or give a rendition of an apology, Dale answered, "Surviving, that's how I grieve." He left the tent to find Shane and discuss plans for putting a stop to Ed's abyssal behavior as Daryl finished doing up the last of his laces. He found Jim reconstructing another line of cans by punching a small hole with a hammer and nail through both sides of a can and then looping a wire through it.

"Y'know who did this, don'tcha?" asked Daryl as he took up the other hammer and began to puncture the cans with more holes.

Jim shrugged a shoulder, almost indifferently.

"C'mon now, Jim, y'can talk to me. I ain't a walker, y'know, I ain't gonna bite." Jim glanced at him with a strange expression on his face and Daryl ran a wire through two cans. "Okay, okay, bad joke, but still…"

"I know who did it," said Jim neutrally.

"Dale's discussin' it with Shane to try'n catch Ed in the act've somethin'. He's not just puttin' us at risk, he's throwin' his own family's lives into jeopardy."

"His family don't mean shit to him," said Jim, missing the hammer and slamming his finger instead. His reaction was slow, too slow for Daryl's liking, for Jim scrunched up his brow almost in puzzlement and then sucked the blood off of his injured finger before returning to the task.

"Y'alright?" Daryl asked, but knew he would get no response, so he continued. "Well, I can see that he don't give a damn 'bout 'is family, otherwise he'd be treatin' 'em right and we wouldn't have this problem in the first place, but iss almost inhumane, what he's doin'. I mean, iss just short've insane, innet?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed, measuring out the line so far.

Daryl shook his head to himself. "I'm glad you're 'round to talk to, Jim, 'cuz I might just go crazy if I didn't have these deep conversations t'look forward to. Y'hardly talk at all-,"

"I listen," said Jim in self defense.

"Yeah, you're real good at that," Daryl agreed. _You're 'bout as good a list'ner as Ed is at bein' an asshole._

By noon they had rebuilt the alarms and strung them up, but also concealed a trip wire in case Ed wanted to make another go at taking the cans down. As they took their lunch break in the shade they saw Carol and Sophia working on Sophia's homework at a lunch table while Ed lingered nearby smoking again. Andrea brought Carol and Sophia lunch, however Ed was quick to step in, and with so many people around, he knew he couldn't strike at Andrea, but he could verbally abuse her. Daryl heard the argument start up and picked up his crossbow, thoroughly prepared to shoot Ed in the ass.

"It's called being thoughtful, Ed, you should try it some time," said Andrea coldly.

_Aw, c'mon now, y'know that's just gonna rile 'im up, Andrea, what're y'doin'?_

"If they want lunch, they can get it themselves, now I am orderin' you to stay the hell away from them unless y'want me to knock you on your ass again. They don't need no lunch—my daughter's studyin' right now so that she gets more've an education than that redneck with the crossbow or that dumb as shit mechanic," said Ed, clearly relishing the hurt his words inflicted on Andrea, but she was swift with a comeback.

"Well, I think they'd have to work really hard to reach your level of stupidity, you fat ass."

Daryl foresaw trouble and was about to appeal to Jim for backup, but somehow, the mechanic was already there beside Andrea. He put his arm out to push her back from Ed who looked like he wanted nothing more than to throttle her. Ed's cigarette was still in hand and he raised it to his lips, but the smoldering end brushed against Jim's arm and left a small burn mark. Smirking, Ed challenged Jim with a raise of his eyebrows, but Jim only cracked his forefinger knuckle against his thumb and turned heel.

"Yeah, you better walk 'way b'fore I bitch slap that slutty girlfriend of yours, Jim-bo."

Jim stopped dead in his tracks and Daryl saw his face flushing dark red while he fought to control his anger. Thankfully at that moment Lori and Carl came over to join Carol and Sophia in their schooling, so Jim just kept on walking back to where Daryl stood, staring in bewilderment.

"I swear, Jim, y'got some sorta mutant power with how fast y'get goin'."

Jim replied by seizing his hammer and pounding away at another can.

Dale and Glenn helped Merle out into the lounge chair again where he sat glaring at Ed for the majority of the three hours Ed spent loitering around the camp. Due to his blood loss, his lack of appetite, his dehydration, and his vomiting, Daryl could see that his brother had lost a lot of weight in a very short amount of time. He felt slightly guilty because when he had complained about his brother's heaviness, he hadn't meant for him to shed the pounds nearly as fast as he had. Merle, however, seemed to be in high spirits despite the fact that he gave Rick and T-Dog a very filthy look every time they passed by. He was not so easy to forgive when it came to the two people he blamed most for his misfortune, but seeing as how he could still barely stand for more than thirty seconds without help, there was little he could do.

Jim spent the rest of the day punching holes into the cans with such aggressiveness that Daryl sat several feet away from him to avoid flying nails. He knew the reason why Jim was so aggravated, but he didn't know why that was the reason in the first place. He was almost certain that Andrea didn't even suspect a thing, which was probably a positive thing. At dinner Jim skewered his carrots so hard that he poked three holes through his plate with his plastic Tupperware. Since he was usually so reserved, everyone couldn't help but watch him and then shamelessly pretend that they hadn't been whenever he looked up.

So as to speak alone with Andrea, Daryl offered to help her with the small amount of dishes to clean. As they knelt over the soap bucket Daryl expressed the question, "Did y'know Jim b'fore the apocalypse?"

Andrea soaked her sponge in the water and scrubbed at a pot. "No, I only met him here, why?"

"No real reason," said Daryl airily. "I just noticed how he gets kinda protective when Ed's around and I thought maybe iss 'cuz y'all were friends b'fore."

"You don't have to have been friends before the apocalypse to look out for each other, Daryl. Jim's just doing what anyone else would."

_I wouldn't be too sure've that_.

"Y'know, I think it'd take a lotta stress off've 'im if y'didn't go lookin' for fights with Ed. Y'couldda walked 'way from Ed t'day, but y'didn't; y'just stood there, askin' for 'nother ass whoopin'."

"I'm not letting slime like Ed Peletier get to me, Daryl. He may think that all women will bow to his wishes like Carol does, but he's dead wrong and I sure as hell am not a woman to be intimidated by an oversized bully who's eaten too many Krispy Kreme Donuts."

Daryl laughed, for that was one of his first thoughts when he had met Ed. He and Andrea finished up the washing and then went their separate ways to retire. Inside his tent, Daryl was surprised to find Amy there wringing her hands. She pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, "I don't want Andrea to know that I came here, but I had to ask a favor of you."

Shifting rather uncomfortably, Daryl let her speak.

"She's not going to back down to Ed and if she doesn't he'll end up hurting her really bad. I know Jim's taken it on himself to protect her, but I'd feel much better if I knew you were watching out for her too since you have experience."

"I am watchin' out f'her," said Daryl.

"Then how come Jim always gets to Ed first?" Amy demanded.

"Well, he's Superman or somethin', I dunno. He's just fast, but I'm always prepared to take Ed down if he makes a move for y'sister. Don't go worryin' none 'bout it. Andrea's got at least three men who'd tear Ed in half if he lays hands on her agin. Not t'mention that Shane and Rick'll prob'ly morph into monsters wearin' uniforms the moment Ed tries anythin'. Now go on back t'your own tent, or I'mma get in trouble f'havin' you in here."

Not looking altogether reassured, Amy hurried away and Daryl zipped up the flap, breathing a sigh of relief that another long day was finally over. He didn't have much trouble getting to sleep even though he had double to think about. His dreams took a usual turn for the worse and mutated into nightmares as his weariness claimed the peace in his body. He dreamt of finding Merle's bloody and severed hand, but not finding Merle. Walkers closed in on him within the dark confined spaces of the building. With nowhere to go Daryl grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer in the staff kitchen with one hand and a frying pan with another, swinging, clubbing, and stabbing. He managed to take out nearly six walkers before a seventh bowled into him and he fell backwards, causing the mess of dirty pots and pans to clatter to the floor, their off-key notes ringing in Daryl's ears.

He sat up bolt right and the clanging was still happening, though this time there were screams to accompany the sound. Screams of, _"Walkers!_"


	6. Chapter 6: Terror on the Mountain

Daryl didn't have time to go for his shoes. Instead he grabbed hold of his crossbow and wooden stake, quickly unzipped the flap, and stumbled out into chaos. The sound of can alarms going off was deafening; it came from all sides except the drop off behind the RV. Looking left he saw one survivor go down as three walkers took hold of her. Anyone still alive had hold of some sort of battering weapon and everyone was slowly backing up towards the RV where Dale was guarding the door. Rick and Shane dashed inside, reappearing with the bag of weapons Daryl had recovered on the trip back to Atlanta. To his right Carol and Sophia were tugging on Ed's arm who was using a long piece of firewood to strike out at the walkers surrounding his campfire. Daryl saw Zeke and Sedgwick dragging someone towards the Winnebago, though he couldn't tell who it was. Shane yelled a heads-up and threw him the Remington 870 which he swiftly loaded and began taking out walkers with as he delivered direct head shots. He paced himself backwards, watching another survivor disappear into the bushes with several walkers on his tail. Andrea had an axe and was covering Amy's escape while her sister crawled as fast as she could, supporting a twisted ankle. She didn't see the walker on her left.

Daryl cried out to her, sprinting in her direction, but out of nowhere the butt end of a Mossberg 500 slammed into the walker's jaw as Merle drove it home and then turned the pump action around to make a nice new hole in the walker's head. He tucked the shotgun under his arm, grabbed onto Amy's shirt and lifted her with his left hand into standing position.

"Merle, on your right!" Daryl warned and his brother fired off another round into the darkness where a hulking figure dropped.

Morales and Glenn were taking turns whacking at a hefty male walker. Jacqui and Sonya had armed themselves with lounge chairs which were practically no use at all. Andrea came to their rescue, bringing the axe swinging up and over to dispatch a walker, but another even bigger one grabbed her from behind and forced her down. Jim was there in a heartbeat, hammering the walker with his bat until the entire face was gone. He reached down and pulled Andrea up by her wrist, pointing mutely at the RV as he set off down the trail to assist in any way he could. Daryl padded after him in his socks, wincing at the roughness of the gravel under his feet. He watched in fascination as Vin seized one walker, lifted it bodily, and with an almighty roar, threw it over the edge of the drop-off before he remembered Jim and tore after the mechanic.

He could hear a woman screaming ahead and saw Jim stop in the middle of the trail, observing five walkers feasting on another survivor. Daryl clutched Jim's shirt and gave a sharp tug. "C'mon, Jim, there ain't nothin' we can do. We gotta get back and help the others."

Jim turned slowly on the spot and as Daryl saw the empty, faraway look in his eyes, he realized that at the moment, Jim was not with him. Grabbing Jim's collar, Daryl led him back towards the RV where Dale was keeping walkers off of Lori and Carl with his Ruger M77. Rick and Shane had the front covered with Zeke and Glenn, but back at Ed's campfire, the schoolyard bully was locked in one-on-one with a female walker that refused to go down. In another few seconds it would have him.

Daryl's world froze for a moment. Did he hate that man enough to let him be eaten alive which he fully deserved? Ed wouldn't have rushed to Daryl's aid, or anyone else's for that matter, but that didn't mean Daryl had to sink to that level. He was a survivor and protector no matter who that meant protecting. Cocking his Remington, he took aim and fired off a round into the walker's eardrum. Ed whirled around to see where the shot had come from and met Daryl's eye, but Daryl joined the front line to keep the advancing walkers at bay. Together with his, Shane, Rick, and Dale's firepower, the last of the nearby walkers were taken out.

"Zeke, you, Sedge, and Dog take out any more on the east side," Shane instructed.

"Dog's down," said Zeke heavily.

Daryl saw T-Dog with his hands wrapped around his ankle where there was blood oozing from a bite mark. Shane saw the wound and his eyes widened. "Aw, shit, Dog…"

"Y'all go sweep that east side, we'll take care've this," said Daryl, taking the axe from Andrea. "We gotta amputate the leg right now. Dale, go get somethin' flat and stick it in the fire to close up the wound."

"If you cut his leg off, he'll bleed to death," said Lori, setting T-Dog's head in her lap.

"Y'wanna wait for 'im t'turn into a walker? That leg's gotta come off if y'wanna save 'im. There's no compromise. I'll do it. Someone get 'im a stick t'bite on, quick!"  
>Vin held out small broken off branch for T-Dog who clamped his teeth down on it, sweating profusely. Daryl disinfected the axe blade, warned everyone to take a step back, and held it high. "'M'sorry 'bout this, Dog." He brought the axe down, parting the left foot and ankle from the rest of the leg. T-Dog howled through the stick and Jim and Shane held him down.<p>

"Now we gotta seal it up," said Daryl over T-Dog's cries. "Merle can help. Merle?"

His brother was leaning against the RV with vomit on his lips. He took a step towards Daryl and his legs gave out. Andrea put out her hands to help him, hauling him to his feet and calling for someone to help her. Vin took over by himself, holding Merle up with just one hand.

"Get 'im back inside," Daryl instructed. "Dumb bastard nearly killed 'imself with all that energy he spent."

Carol rested her hand on Daryl's bicep and thanked him for helping Ed. Infuriated at the loyalty she showed her abusive husband after everything she and her daughter had been through, Daryl retorted, "I don't think I did you a favor. Y'take that back and don't lemme catch you stickin' up f'him agin. That bastard don't deserve the life he's got. I killed the walker, I didn't save him."

Andrea gave a scream and Daryl looked up to see a lone walker grab her throat, teeth gnashing. Bare-handed, she punched it with her knuckles, but the hit was weak and she couldn't defend herself. In a desperate attempt to avoid getting bitten, she brought her knee in between herself and the walker and kicked it off of her, scrambling away. Dashing forward, Daryl pulled out his Busse and drove it through the walkers left eye socket, stabbing repeatedly. Behind him Jim had lifted Andrea back onto her feet, holding her up with an arm around her waist.

"You okay?" Daryl asked her and she nodded weakly. He kept his head down as the survivors began trickling in only one at a time and he waited for the flat press Dale had found to heat up. When he deemed it hot enough, he took it from the fire and approached T-Dog who had passed out from the pain, for which he was grateful. Lifting T-Dog's leg stump he touched the press to the wound and smoke blew up in his face, rancid and dark. When he had finished he sat back, dropping the press and gagging.

Dale patted his shoulder, complimenting him on his quick thinking.

"Do you think we cut off the infection?" asked Rick, examining Daryl's handiwork.

"I think so," said Daryl. "But this is becomin' a fashion statement—cuttin' limbs off."

"Well, hopefully that all stops here," said Jacqui wistfully.

Just then Zeke and Sedgwick trudged back in, heads bowed which signified bad news all around. The survivors gathered in close to each other for support to hear the news.

"There's at least eight people dead, not including the ones who ran off down the mountain," Zeke calculated. "Along with Dog, one more is bitten and still alive, very much alive."

"Why are you looking at me when you say that?" asked Morales, going sheet white.

"Because," said Sedgwick, "one of them's your son."

%%%

Never had they been so relieved to see the first rays of morning yet dreaded it because it just meant they were that much closer to having to put Morales's son down before the infected bite turned him. Morales, his wife, and his daughter sat huddled around their boy Louis while all around the family the other survivors began to pile walker bodies and burn them on the far end of camp. To avoid the risk of having the bitten rise again they had to take out the brain and then burn the bodies as well, though they spared such items as a shoe, a necklace, and a pocketknife in memoriam of those they lost, digging small graves for each item and marking those whose names they knew. Dale and Amy tried dragging the big walker that had attacked Andrea to the burning pile, but it was too heavy and Dale asked Ed to assist them.

"We could use some help here, Ed, this is a big one," said Dale, huffing as he mopped at the sweat on his upper lip.

Ed, however, turned his back on them and settled into his lounge chair, sipping his coffee in a way that made it clear that he wasn't going to budge for anyone. Daryl gave a sound like an angry bull and before Sedgwick could stop him, he crossed over to Ed's fire, seized the lounge chair, and wrenched it out from under Ed so that the lazy-ass bum fell hard on his rear end.

"You're part've this camp and you're alive so y'better get your shit together and help out or you'll wish I'd let that walker eatcha. I mean it, pal, get up right now."

Ed jumped up rather quickly for a man of his bulk and was well on his way to swinging a punch at Daryl when Rick broke up the almost-fight by scolding Daryl and steering him away. In a harsh whisper he said, "That probably wasn't the wisest decision to make, but Ed isn't the only one who needs to get his shit together, Daryl. Now is not the time to go picking a fight when there are dead people laying all around. You should show some consideration by not being so selfish and trying to provoke Ed when Morales has almost no time left with his son."

"Bein' selfish?" Daryl spat. "Is that whatcha call wantin' t'get the fucker r'sponsible for our losses outta here? Yeah, iss Ed's fault. If he hadn't taken down them alarms, Jim'n me couldda set up more further down the mountain and gotten an earlier warnin', but that didn't happen, now did it?"

"I will consider you to be just as much of a threat if you continue to act this way and I will restrain you, don't think I won't."

"Well, go 'head, Officer Jackass, I don't need my brother t'protect m'self. Give it y'best shot."

"Rick, it's the kid," said Shane suddenly, running up to them with a pistol in hand. "He's goin' over."

Daryl readied his crossbow and hurried off after Shane, eager to get away from Rick. In the middle of the trail, Louis was twitching violently as his father bent over him, weeping as he tried to keep his son still. Morales's wife and daughter were backed up, holding each other and sobbing as they turned away. When Shane approached with his Beretta, Morales suddenly threw himself over his son.

"No, you stay back! Don't you touch him!"

"Morales, there's nothin' you can do for him now; you gotta let him go before he bites someone," Shane reasoned. "I promise, it won't hurt him." Morales refused to move and Rick, Sedgwick, and Vin all had to pry him away from his son as the boy suddenly went still. Shane stood over the boy and put his handgun to the kid's temple.

Daryl forced himself to look away just as he heard the gunshot. Next to him Andrea put a hand to her mouth and turned her back on the sight, reaching for Amy who held her close. On Andrea's other side Jim extended a cautious hand and put it on her shoulder which she grasped, fighting back tears. Morales's scream was heart-wrenching and almost made Daryl's eardrums explode. Daryl closed his fist and put it to his mouth, unsure how to react, but knowing that he should do _something_. He felt a small hand slip into his and looked down to see Sophia gazing up at him with transparent tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. He didn't pull away but squeezed her hand as a way to reassure her when he didn't quite know if she was the one trying to comfort him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him in what he found to be a pleasant voice, one he thought she should use more often.

"I will be," he told her. He looked up and saw Ed watching him with a death threat etched into his repulsive features. In his moment of grief, Daryl had accepted Sophia's kindness, but he hadn't thought of Ed and now that the little girl's father saw him holding her hand, there would be hell to pay. He quickly let go and sensing his distress, Sophia stepped away from him as she saw Ed looking at her.

"Y'stick close t'Shane and Rick t'night, hear me?" he murmured to her out of the corner of his mouth. "Don't you go back t'your daddy, no matter what he says. Y'stay clear've him."

He knew it was practically a death sentence for himself in holding her hand, but if he let Sophia go back to her family's tent tonight, it was possible that she'd never come out again.


	7. Chapter 7: Storm Clouds Rolling In

The last of the bodies had been taken care of and put in the burning pile and everyone who had gotten blood on themselves marched down to the quarry to wash out the stains. They spread their clothes out along the gravel and began to scrub at them, for they didn't want to risk contaminating the water. The walker that Vin had thrown over the drop off had landed near the Buick and the sight was just about the most disgusting thing Daryl had ever seen; innards had spilt out all over the ground and there were blood splatters on the underside of the car. As he cleansed his shirt, he listened to Zeke and Sonya teaching Sophia to whistle in order to keep her spirits up. Jim was trying to get a stubborn spot of blood out of his own shirt and as Daryl stepped away from his own for a moment, a thought suddenly occurred to him that Jim could use a more reliable weapon than a monkey wrench or a bat, specifically a puncturing weapon. Merle had used his Jungle Master Hunting Knife on the walkers the night before and Daryl had taken it to clean it off, but he could find a replacement for that. Merle had put two walkers down with a wrench himself one-handed and was more likely to adapt to whatever was at hand than Jim who could use a knife. Wiping the blade dry on his pant leg, Daryl held the handle out to Jim.

"Jim, I think you should hold ont'this. I dunno how things are gonna go down from here on out, but I gotta feelin' that y'might need a better weapon that don't require as much force as whatchoo been usin'. Take this here knife."

"That's Merle's," said Jim, clearing the suds off of the blood spot.

"Was. Iss on a loan f'now, okay? Just take it and once things've settled down, y'can give it back."

"Settled down?" Jim repeated. "What makes you think things are gonna settle down? Walkers in camp, Ed, your brother, _you_…things ain't gonna _settle down_ 'round here, you can bet on that."

Daryl paused. He didn't mind that Jim was still hesitant about accepting that Merle was no longer a threat, but the fact that he had pointed out Daryl as a threat was more than just confusing; it was hurtful and a load of rancid shit.

"What're you talkin' 'bout me bein' a threat?"

"Ed's out to get you," said Jim. "Long as you're here, he's gonna be on your ass, looking for an opportunity to beat you."

"Well, what d'you want me t'do 'bout it? I ain't leavin', not with Merle in such a bad state, but if y'want me gone 'cuz y'think I'mma get between you'n Andrea, just say it, pal."

Jim glanced over at Andrea and shot Daryl a look of venom. "I dunno what you're talking about."

Daryl took a knee beside him. "Yeah, y'do. C'mon, man, y'ain't foolin' no one. I see y'got a thing for her and I don't got a problem with that. What I do have a problem with is you callin' me out on bein' a menace. I ain't lookin' t'hurt nobody here unless I have to and by that I mean if they get outta line or if they turn into walkers."

"That ain't what I meant," said Jim, dumping water onto his shirt.

"Say whatcha mean then, 'cuz your mood swings are givin' me whiplash. I wanna know why you're so protective of Andrea and why you're fightin' t'hold them feelin's back. I know you're havin' a hard time expressin' your emotions-,"

"No, you don't," said Jim, cutting him off. "You don't know one thing about me, so don't even pretend."

"I know y'need help. Look, Jim, if y'keep all that anger and grief stored inside, you're gonna blow y'top and end up just like Ed and I really don't want 'nother one've him 'round here."

"Don't gotta worry about that."

"Then tell me what's goin' on inside y'head. Nobody can help you 'less y'give 'em somethin' t'work with and right now I wanna help, but I got nothin'. I can see that you're grievin' and I think y'found some comfort in lookin' out f'Andrea and that's just fine, but I gotta know if that's all it is, or if there's somethin' more."

"Don't see why it's any business of yours," said Jim shortly, wringing out his shirt and putting it back on.

"It ain't my business, but if there's more'n just guardian feelin's over her, I gotta know so that I can understand why y'go t'such lengths to protect her and incorporate that into why you'd face off 'gainst Ed 'cuz y'never had no quarrel t'pick with 'im b'fore he hit Andrea."

"She reminds me of my wife."

Daryl wanted very much to add, "So what", but felt that Jim had just told him. Obviously Jim's wife was dead, and so he had found that Andrea reminded him of her and to keep that memory alive, he had taken it upon himself to be her shield. The feelings could be more than just that, but knowing what little bit about Jim he did, they probably weren't.

"Okay, alright, I get it," said Daryl. He held the knife out. "Iss still up f'grabs."

Jim hesitated, but took the knife and attached it to his belt.

%%%

After dragging himself out of bed to fight off the walkers, Merle had used up too much energy that he didn't even have to begin with and so he was still snoring loudly when Daryl came back to camp and checked in on him. Andrea and Amy returned shortly after him and while her sister went off to console with Morales's family, Amy approached Daryl who was sitting under the shade of the trees with his shirt still pleasantly damp to fight off some of the Atlanta heat.

"How's Merle?" she asked tentatively.

"Asleep, that's what he does best 'sides annoy the hell outta people."

Amy laughed. "Well, when he wakes up, would you tell him thanks?"

"F'what?" asked Daryl, looking at her in puzzlement.

"Well, he sacrificed a lot to come outside and fight the walkers. I mean, he didn't have to and he knew it wasn't going to help his health, but he did it anyway."

"Y'can tell 'im that y'self, I ain't no messenger," said Daryl idly, stabbing his blade into a chunk of firewood.

"I would but he's kind of, uh, kind of—_dodgy_. You know what I mean? Anyone who doesn't know him would think that he's not very approachable. I just want him to know that Andrea and I are both thankful that he did what he did. He needs to know that he doesn't have to be such an outsider."

"Merle _likes_ bein' an outsider and he didn't do it f'you, so don't you be getting' any ideas that he's lookin' out f'the group," said Daryl. "If Merle don't get t'take 'is anger out on somethin' every few days he gets real pissed, so that was prob'ly just 'im lettin' off steam. He wanted t'fight; he wasn't tryin' t'save no one."

"But he pulled me up out of the way," Amy pointed out. "He could have just kept on fighting and left me to crawl away on my own, but he helped me up."

"Prob'ly 'cuz you was in 'is way and he didn't wanna step on you," said Daryl half-heartedly.

Amy crossed her arms with an annoyed expression. "That's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard. Why are you so determined to put him in a bad light?"

"I ain't; I just don't want none've y'all gettin' the impression that Merle's softened up and done a one-eighty. He's still an asshole and he still don't give a rat's ass 'bout anyone but 'imself, so don't go thinkin' that he's suddenly y'all's guardian or somethin'."

"Well, some people here might think _you've_ done a one-eighty, or maybe more like a one-fifty-three," said Amy.

"I never been like Merle and I didn't need that much've a turn-'round, but I ain't changed neither," said Daryl, looking at Amy none too kindly. "I'm just united with y'all 'gainst Ed, so once he's outta the picture, so'm I."

"You mean you'll leave?" said Amy in shock.

"Well, Merle ain't gonna wanna stick 'round here 'cuz he don't like t'be tied down in one place f'too long, so once he's on 'is feet, he'll be gone. Plus, I don't want 'im stirrin' up trouble with Rick or T-Dog so I gotta get 'im outta here."

"You may not think you care, Daryl, but what you just said there makes you out to be a liar to yourself because you wouldn't want to be taking him out of camp if you weren't concerned that he'd do something to hurt anyone here."

"Well, he might, y'never know with Merle. Even off've the drugs, he cares 'bout other people like dogs care 'bout wipin' their asses."

Amy wrinkled her nose as if the thought was not only ludicrous but also quite nasty. Daryl left the conversation where it was as he picked up a tin bucket and stomped over to his tent and reached under Merle's cot to pull out his bag of drugs. He rummaged through them, not really sure what he was looking for, but kept just a few bottles that might come in handy for relieving pain. Everything else he freed from their containers and dumped into the bucket as he made an executive decision. Taking the long walk to where what was left of the bodies was still burning, he tipped the bucket over, spilling all the pills out over the rotting and now smoldering corpses. He watched the pills disintegrate, feeling a deep sense of self-satisfaction. This was his revenge on Merle for being such an asshole for all the years of Daryl's life. Merle's anger might be fierce when he found out that Daryl had disposed of his second most prized possession, but he would eventually spend all that rage and settle back into a state of zero motivation, which was admittedly preferable to the hyped up Merle.

"Good thing you took care of that now and not when Merle's up and walking," said Dale, appearing at Daryl's shoulder. "I think you should go tie down your tent really tight because storm clouds are rolling in and it's not just going to be a cloud burst. We're in for a rough night: wind, rain, and possibly lightning."

Daryl forced a laugh. "Yeah, that'd be somethin', wouldn't it? Here we are in the apocalypse, thinkin' that we'll get killed off by walkers b'fore we die've old age, yet it'd be a real knee slapper if someone got killed by lightnin'."

"It's a possibility, so keep an eye out and be prepared. We may have to move your brother out of the RV since lightning's more likely to strike it than anything else on this mountain."

"This day just keeps gettin' better'n better," said Daryl, turning away from the fire. On the trail he saw Ed heading down to the quarry now that mostly all the survivors had come back. "Seen anythin' happen with Ed?"

"No, he's mostly been in his tent all day but Carol and Sophia have stayed clear of it. I think we should be okay for tonight as long as we can hold out against the weather."

"I don't think so." Daryl told Dale of the incident with Sophia earlier which made Dale whisk his hat off and slap it against his other hand.

"Damn it, Daryl, are you _trying_ to get us all killed?"

"Hey, it weren't my fault, okay? B'sides, I think we're all more'n enough've a match for Ed if he wanted to try somethin' t'night."

"That's not the point, though! _We_ can't be the ones to provoke him; he has to act on his own accord."

"Which he will," Daryl assured. "Carol and Sophia have the freedom t'say that they don't wanna stay in the tent t'night and if he sees a problem with that then we'll be ready. We won't react 'til he does, iss that simple."

"It'd better be or we're going to have a whole mess of shit on our hands," said Dale, shaking his head.

Daryl turned his gaze skyward, watching dark storm clouds roll in. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance and the gentle breeze that had been present not two minutes ago started to pick up. He decided that they had better put the fires out before the wind scooped them up and spread them across the camp and so he, Shane, Zeke, and Jacqui sacrificed some of their water to put out the flames. When they had finished Shane tilted the brim of his duck bill hat backwards so that he could look up properly.

"This storm's gonna be a bad one. We might just have to put on some rain gear, flatten the tents, and stock up the supplies by the RV otherwise the wind's gonna scatter everything all across the mountainside."

"And on that happy note, here comes trouble," said Zeke, pointing out Ed who was tromping up the trail towards them. "Y'all seen my family?" he asked with forced calmness.

"Last time I seen them they were working on Sophia's homework," said Jacqui, not looking at him.

Swearing for no apparent reason, Ed walked away. Daryl sighed, tapping an arrow against his leg anxiously. "Y'know I think you're right 'bout that storm, Shane, but I gotta tell ya, I suspected that this was gonna turn out t'be a shitty night even without no storm."


	8. Chapter 8: Hell to Pay

"Bad" was a bit of an understatement when Daryl looked for a word to describe the storm. Just as Shane had predicted, the wind picked up and began knocking over anything that wasn't tied down or secured. The survivors had taken down their tents and piled everything up next to the Winnebago, but for those belongings that were possessions of the recently deceased, they were strewn pell-mell across the mountainside. The thunder was more frequent than anything else, but the temperature dropped as the sun ducked behind the dark gray storm clouds and the rain turned on. Everyone had set out rain catchers and took as much advantage of the downpour as they could, but within about ten minutes they were drenched and miserable since not all of them could cram inside the RV. Fortunately the lightning didn't even appear until the light started to die and even then it was still far off. The wind was back to nothing more than a draft so a few of them started setting up their water-proof tents. Ed was one of them, accepting no help (though no one offered him any) and cursing at the random parts to the tent as he worked by flashlight.

Besides those who Daryl interacted with most, there were three survivors and all from the same family: an uncle and his two nephews. He hadn't said much besides stating that his last name was Burwell, but the three of them set up their tent with some help from Vin, Jacqui, and Sonya while Zeke and Sedgwick reconstructed their own. By the time the three tents were up again, Daryl and Jim had had to pour the rain catchers' contents into bigger containers at least four times. Jim went off on his own to secure the south and east side alarms and after he had gone Andrea offered to go out with Glenn and make sure that the west side alarms were still up Together they took a bat and a pistol.

"Fire off two shots if you get in trouble," said Shane, handing out the supplies rather reluctantly.

Daryl watched them go, licking rainwater off of his lips. He sat down on the RV steps, listening to Lori, Carol, and Amy conversing at the table while Carl and Sophia played a board game on the floor beside them. Dale was dutifully keeping watch by peering through the watery windshield with his binoculars. Snapping his fingers to himself distractedly, Daryl kept leaning back to look down the hall and into the back room where both Merle and T-Dog were still out cold. He knew that if his brother woke up before T-Dog, things would get messy, but there was nowhere else to put the amputees. As for the Morales family, they were huddled under the few umbrellas they had sitting on the gravel outside.

The time ticked by and the storm gave no sign of letting up, but Jim was the first to return after nearly half an hour. Shane draped a dry blanket over him to give him a bit of warmth as well as a few tissues since rain, just like large bodies of water, had a bad habit of making phlegm run down from the nose if you stayed out in it too long. As Jim blew his nose Daryl could see him counting heads and faces. When he came up two short and realized that Andrea was not present, he posed the question to Shane.

"Where'd they go?"

"To check the other alarms," said Shane. "But you left before them and you just got back, so I wouldn't worry."

"It only took me s'long as it did 'cuz I had to reset a whole line. They should be back."

"Well, I haven't heard a gunshot, so I'd assume that they're alright," said Rick with false cheeriness. "They're probably just having a hard time getting back up the mountain with all the mud the rain made."

"Naw, that hill ain't steep," said Daryl, catching on. "They wouldn'ta had any trouble. I think we should go out and look for—,"

"Here comes Glenn," Shane pointed out, though his expression darkened when he saw that Glenn was alone and had the pistol. "Where's Andrea?" he demanded.

Glenn looked nonplussed. "She's not back? She said she was heading back and that was at least fifteen minutes ago."

"You mean you left her alone?" Rick thundered.

"We weren't that far out of camp, I thought she'd be all right," Glenn stammered.

"Son've a bitch," cursed Daryl, picking up a flashlight. "Y'all keep watch on Merle and fire off a shot if she comes back, I'm goin' out t'look for her."

"I'm going with you," said Dale, climbing out of the driver's seat.

"So am I," said Amy.

"No," said Shane. "Rick and I'll go one way, Daryl, you and Dale go another and we'll meet back here in half an hour if we don't find anything. The rest've you stay alert and let us know if you find her."

"There goes Jim," said Dale, pointing with his rifle at the mechanic who was already walking briskly down the hill. He and Daryl took off after Jim, catching up with him just as they hit the tree line. Daryl chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Ed poke his head out of the tent to see what the commotion was about. Dale tried to calm Jim since the latter was looking either like he was going to be sick all over himself or he was going to beat the snot out of someone.

"Start callin' out to her," Daryl suggested. "If she hears us, she'll make her towards us."

"Unless she's unconscious," said Jim in an undertone.

"Quit bein' so positive Jim," Daryl snapped, shining his flashlight on the ground to try and find some footprints in the rushing water and mud. He saw some tracks, but they were almost gone and he had to stoop over to get a good look at them. "Looks like it could be Andrea's," he announced. "They head off that way yonder." He pointed to the north. As they plowed through the muck, Daryl began to feel more and more apprehensive that either a walker had gotten her or she had fallen and hit her head so badly that she couldn't get up. Mud washed over his boots and into his socks, making everything twice as slippery so that more than once Dale had to reach out and steady him. When they were almost to the bottom of the mountain Daryl spotted tracks again, much fresher and much deeper, though they didn't look like Andrea's, but as he looked closer he saw that there was a second mingling with the first. As he examined the prints he noticed that the ground had a smooth and flattened look to it almost as if something had been dragged over it. The smaller, lighter prints were gone but the bigger ones continued on down the slope until they were lost from sight.

"What is it?" asked Dale, squinting in the darkness.

"I dunno, I can't tell what went on here, but-,"

"There," Jim announced, dashing past them to a clump of bushes. Daryl was about to ask him what exactly "there" meant, but then saw a leg sticking out of the foliage. Jim plunged his hands into the bramble and surfaced with—

"Andrea!" Dale exclaimed. He helped Jim set her down where the two of them searched her for wounds. They found a large lump on her head and as Dale ran his hands over her side, he drew back. "Two cracked ribs. She must have taken a big fall, or-,"

"Y'know that ain't what happened," Daryl said softly. "Look there at her face, the skin's puffy and y'can see the knuckle marks. Naw, someone deliberately did this to her and left her f'dead."

"Even Ed wouldn't go that far," said Dale though it was clear that he didn't believe his own words. "I mean, he was in his tent when we left; there's no way he could have gotten to her and back without someone noticing."

"Listen up, Dale, now's the time to choose sides. You're either a stupid bastard f'thinkin' that all men are born saints which includes Ed, or you're smart 'nough to know who did this to her and if you're like me, you _know_ it was Ed. Y'want this to go unchallenged or d'you want t'make Ed pay for what he done?"

"Yes," said Dale strongly. "I want him to pay for what he's done, but what proof do we have?"

The light fell on Jim's face and Daryl actually felt a cold chill run up his spine. Unlike Ed who just had a disconcerting face to begin with, Jim's face was darker than the raging storm and more dangerous than Daryl could ever remember Merle's being. The first flash of lightning set the sky alight as Jim looked off into the middle distance, bawling up his trembling fists. He stood up, his long figure towering over Daryl and Dale and turning heel, he began sprinting up the hillside.

"Mind what you do, Jim!" Dale heeded to his retreating back. "Daryl, go after him, I'll carry her. Hurry, go on!"

Leaving the older man to carry Andrea's dead weight didn't sound at all appealing to Daryl, but if a fight broke out, he was almost certain that he was the only one who Jim would listen to. He heard Dale fire off one round into the night to signify to Shane and Rick wherever they were that Andrea had been found. He found himself actually praying that somehow it had _not _been Ed to attack Andrea because no good would come of it if he had. But who else could possibly have done it or indeed wanted to have done it?

_You're in for a world've hurt now, pal._

He couldn't quite keep up with Jim, but he could see his silhouette always about four meters in front of him as they fought their way through the foliage back up the mountainside. When he saw the lights from the Winnebago, Jim was already halfway there, but something that momentarily distracted Daryl was the sight of Merle vertically wrestling with Zeke and Sedgwick who were trying to keep him off of T-Dog. How the two had gotten outside was beyond Daryl's knowledge but it created a problem since Ed was already at the RV yelling through the doorway and trying to get inside.

"Y'get your ass out here right now, woman, or I swear you're gonna regret ever being born. You and that girl get out here!"

"Ed, back the hell off!" Lori hollered, blocking his way with Glenn and Amy while Morales tried to pull Ed away. "Carol, Sophia, go into the back!"

Jim plodded right up to Glenn, seized the pistol from his hand and fired off a shot into the air. Everyone froze, including Ed who looked murderous with spit layering his jaw.

"Did you find Andrea?" Amy asked with anxiety. "Is she alright?"

"She was almost at the bottom've the mountain," said Daryl, torn between staying as Jim's wingman or trying to reason with Merle. "And no, she ain't alright. She's been attacked."

"You son've a bitch," said Jim almost without feeling as he stared Ed down.

"Now just what the hell'd I do?" Ed demanded.

"You already know what y'did," Jim seethed. "We found prints in the mud next to the bush she was thrown in." He pointed down at Ed's shoes and lower pant legs which were filthy with a thick layer of mud. Daryl saw that the knuckles on his right hand also looked bruised. It was all the evidence they had, but it was all they needed. "You were warned if you ever put your fucking hands on anyone in this camp you'd regret it," said Jim in a tone with the most emotion Daryl had heard him muster yet. "You're gonna regret it now."

Without warning Jim clipped Ed in the jaw and drove his other fist into Ed's beer gut. Daryl was about to join in when Merle suddenly threw Zeke and Sedgwick off of him, lunging for T-Dog's throat and shouting hysterically, "I'mma chain _you_ to a fuckin' roof and see how you like it!"

Swearing at the top of his lungs Daryl doubled back and clothes-lined Merle. He gave his brother two or three healthy knocks to the face, roaring, "You cut that shit out right now or by God, I'll take your other hand!"

"Get the hell off've me! Lemme at that bastard, I'll kill 'im!"

Amy screamed and Daryl tore his eyes away from his brother just in time to see Ed rip the knife Daryl had lent Jim out of its scabbard and stab Jim with it not once, or twice, but four times: two times in the leg, once in his side, and once in his shoulder. Abandoning all thought of Merle, Daryl rose up, sprinted, and flung himself at Ed, bashing his fist down into Ed's skull with every ounce of strength he had. This was beyond abuse, this was a deliberate attempt at murder and Ed would pay for it in blood. He lost count of how many times he hit his opponent after eight, but he was preparing to bet his crossbow that when someone pulled him away he had gotten to at least fifty. Shane's grip was strong as he held Daryl back while Rick covered Ed.

"Leggo've me! Leggo!" Daryl cried.

"He's had 'nough if you ain't killed him yet," said Shane.

"I don't wanna hit 'im, now lemme go!"

Shane did and Daryl ran straight for Jim, lifting up his shirt to check his side wound which was the most likely to be mortal. He saw the positioning and then measured the amount of blood on Merle's knife. There were dark red stains up to the halfway mark on the blade which told him that it hadn't gone all the way in anywhere on Jim. The two hits to Jim's thigh were deepest, the one in his shoulder was a flesh wound, and the one in his side had been in his hip, not any vital organs.

Jim was hyperventilating and shivering.

"Somebody get me a blanket or somethin'!" Daryl called over his shoulder. Lowering his voice so that just Jim could hear, he said as calmly as he could, "You're gonna be just fine, y'hear me? Shit, Jim, I'm so sorry. I had y'take the knife and if I hadn't, Ed wouldn'ta gotten hold've it, but-,"

Jim shook his head and pressed his hand over his shoulder wound. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he lay there breathing raggedly as Daryl covered him with the blanket Amy offered him. He tried to keep the rain off of Jim's face as he waited for Dale to appear with Andrea while Shane and Rick threw Ed unceremoniously into the back of Jeep Cherokee. The three of them then lifted Jim and placed him under the shelter of the RV's pull-out sun blocker. Daryl then walked over to where Merle had fallen and kicked him in the side.

"Way t'got, asshole, y'nearly got Jim killed."

"How's this my fault?" asked Merle furiously.

"Because your head's so far up y'ass that y'couldn't get in your thick skull that iss not 'bout you right now! Two of our own were almost killed and yet all you can do is pick a fight with a one-legged man 'cuz you can't leggo've grudges! Ass-_hole_!"

"Help!" called Dale as he emerged from the mountainside with Andrea hanging fireman fashion over his shoulders. Zeke rushed out to help him and the two brought her in close where Dale wrapped her in a blanket and felt her forehead. "Fever," he said fearfully. Pulling Andrea's lifeless form in close, he hugged her to his chest and began running his hands up and down her arms to warm her. Then he caught sight of Jim.

"What the—what the _hell_-?"

"Now does that _really_ need an explanation?" Daryl asked.

No one had an answer for him.


	9. Chapter 9: Truth Under the Tarp

"Tell me you ain't actually _debatin_' this," said Daryl furiously. His throat was sore and his voice raspy from using it all night long as he stood up from the RV steps. Tarps had been tapered up rather clumsily to protect them from the rain so that there was an additional ten feet of coverage for them to sit under. They all managed to fit under the tarps except for Merle who had wandered off to sulk and Carol and Sophia who were inside the RV to avoid listening to the conversation. T-Dog had a split lip from his scuffle with Merle, but otherwise was not harmed further than his missing limb. Meanwhile Dale was sponging Andrea's forehead as she lay on folded blankets beside him and Vin tried his best to clean Jim's knife wounds. The mechanic showed almost no sign that he had been stabbed at all. He certainly looked very pale in comparison to his usual sun burnt complexion, but his face was inert just as always. He was listening as Shane and Rick were starting to reconsider their decision to turn Ed to the road and it was this that caused Daryl to come to his feet.

"After everythin' that's happened, you're actually gonna sit there and tell me that you're havin' second thoughts 'bout runnin' that no-good, two-faced son've a bitch outta here? Hell, people, ain't we seen 'nough t'qualify 'im for the crazy-ass bastard've the apocalypse? Jim and Andrea ain't just layin' down 'cuz they feel like it, y'know! Ed left her to the walkers and if the asshole had had better aim, he wouldda gotten Jim in a crucial spot. He's gotta go."

"There's no doubt that he does, Daryl," said Shane reasonably, "but we've gotta give 'im supplies and you know as well as I do that Carol's gonna wanna go with 'im. Now, we ain't got the right to deny her that, but we can sure as hell put up a fight against it. I dunno why she feels any loyalty towards him after all he's done to her, but we can't let her drag herself into a suicidal situation 'cuz if the walkers don't get her, Ed'll beat her to death and Sophia too."

"Well, if she really thinks hittin' the road with her coward've a husband's the thing for her t'do, then let her go, but she ain't takin' that lil' girl with her," said Daryl.

"You're not Sophia's mother and you certainly aren't her dad either, Daryl, so that's not your decision to make," said Rick a little tensely.

"I bet I could be a better dad than the one she's got," Daryl defended. "Damn it, _anyone_ could be a better dad than Ed, including Merle. But she ain't goin' with Ed. It may not be my decision t'make, but iss my place t'try. Sometimes—sometimes kids are taken 'way from their parents for their own good." He found a constriction in his throat, adding to the soreness. He'd never met his dad because his mother had taken him and Merle away just after Daryl was born, but Merle told him how their father had taken a belt to Merle almost close enough to kill him. After she took up with the drugs and alcohol, Merle and Daryl were removed from her custody and when he was old enough, Merle began to care for his little brother, though not in the best sense of the word. He had made sure that Daryl went off to school, occasionally gave him a dollar or two for lunch money, and taught him almost everything he knew about hunting, but for the most part Daryl had been his own parent since his brother had started to take the downward spiraling road when he got into the drugs.

"We all care about Sophia, Daryl, but we might be scarring her for life if we were to take her away from her mother," said Dale.

"And if you're gonna let her go out there with Ed then you're just killin' her which is a whole lot better than puttin' emotional scars on her," said Daryl sarcastically.

"We should vote," Zeke suggested. "If we're going to talk about this so rationally, we should at least try and bring some democracy into it."

"Yeah, that's what Merle said before things went to hell back in Atlanta," said Jacqui.

"But no one's holdin' a gun on you for your vote," Rick reminded her. "Let's put it to a vote right now. We've decided that Ed has to leave, but if you're in favor of letting Carol and Sophia go with him if they want to, raise your hand."

No one did.

"So we all agree that we're going to try and convince them to stay? Hands up…"

All but one hand went up and Shane prompted, "Jim?"

Jim put his weight on his right arm as he pushed himself up. Vin had put his arm in a sling to avoid the temptation to move his bad arm. "Sending 'em out with Ed's as good as killing 'em. If you wanna let 'em go with Ed, why don't you just shoot 'em right now and be done with it? Ed ain't gonna last long; he's got no experience and he's a coward, so why the hell are you discussin' something that's just common sense?"

"Yeah, since y'all don't seem t'get it when I say it, listen t'Jim; he knows what he's talkin' 'bout. Loss've blood don't affect his judgment."

"No, but the fact that Ed went after Andrea does," said Shane, looking at Jim apologetically. "You do a good job at hidin' your emotions, Jim, but Rick and I heard from the others 'bout what you looked like when you came back to fight Ed. We all know the real reason why you don't want Ed 'round and it ain't 'cuz you're concerned for Carol and Sophia."

"You think I don't give a damn about them?" asked Jim, wincing in pain. "Just 'cuz I ain't got a family no more don't mean I can't look out for other people here. If I wanna be a human shield for someone else, who the hell are you to try and take that away from me?"

"No one's tryin' to take anything away from you, Jim," said Shane uncomfortably.

"Somehow I doubt that," said Jim doggedly with a look at his sling.

"Look, Jim's protective feelings have nothing to do with him wanting Ed gone," said Dale, intervening. "Everyone had a bad first impression of Ed to begin with and now that we've seen his true colors the matter is settled. In the morning someone will take him and a few supplies back to the main road and leave him there, then we'll set up a guard just to make sure that he doesn't try and double back."

"You make it sound like he's a walker," said Amy, stroking Andrea's blood-stained hair.

"Naw, he's much worse 'cuz while it may be smaller'n a chipmunk's, Ed's got a brain and he's fully aware've what he's doin' to his family," said Daryl. "And what's more, he can fight back with tactic. He ain't a mindless animated corpse that's only got its mind set on eatin'; he's a human with some fucked up morals."

"Well, I say we ask Carol and Sophia what they want to do before we decide on when we're getting rid of Ed," said Lori, ruffling Carl's head.

Sonya ducked under the tarp and called into the RV for Carol and Sophia to join them which they did, holding each other rather tightly as all eyes rested on them. Shane took the lead, but kept his seat so that he didn't look threatening.

"You probably already know that we've decided to send Ed on his way," he began kindly, "and so you've figured it out that he can't come back. We're cutting off all communication with him and you may say it's inhuman, but this is what we have to do to ensure our survival. See, Ed don't play well with others, to put it gently, and we can't be waitin' for him to explode on someone every minute of the day." Daryl wanted to point out that Rick had said almost those exact same words when explaining why he had left Merle behind, but knew it wouldn't help the situation at all and so he remained silent. "If we let him stay, who knows what he may do? Next time the victims might not be so lucky—and what if those victims are the two of you? I know he's a husband and a father, but he's also a very dangerous man and one that don't deserve the family he's got. Listen to what I'm sayin' here, Carol; you gotta let him go and you gotta stay with us. We can keep you both safe, provide for you, and show you kindness."

Carol's eyes shone with tears as she began to shed them for her husband, an activity she engaged in far too often and Daryl was on the verge of telling her off for it when Merle strode back into camp with a bat held loosely in his one hand. He looked incredibly calm which was a marvel to his little brother who couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother so-so _normal_.

"That sack've meat in the Jeep's wakin' up," he said, giving the bat a bit of a practice swing.

Shane and Rick took off down the trail, leaving the conversation in a momentary stand-still, which gave Carol the opportunity to speak out on Ed's behalf without being shot down by the officers.

"He's my husband," she said, her voice trembling. "Whatever else he may be, that's what he is and I can't just leave him."

"Carol, he left you the first time he ever put his hands on you," said Sedgwick. "If he really cared anything about you and your daughter he'd show it, but he doesn't, so you have to let him go."

Carol bit her lip but Sophia slipped her hand out of her mother's grip and backed away to sit between Amy and Carl. "I'm staying here," she said firmly. "I feel safe with these people, not with him."

"If not for you, stay here for your lil' girl," said Daryl. "Havin' at least one parent 'round can make a world've difference and y'can take my word for that." He sensed Merle stir beside him, but he had meant for his brother to hear it.

Wiping at her eyes, Carol nodded heavily and Lori went to put her arms around her. Dale looked satisfied as he felt the bump on Andrea's head and tenderly replaced the bandage on it. He set her head carefully back down on a pillow and grabbed up his rifle.

"I'll keep watch while everyone tries to get some sleep for a few hours," he offered, consulting his watch. "It's almost four o'clock, so I'll wake everyone up at eight and then we'll get Ed loaded up."

"Should we move her inside?" asked Amy, nodding at her sister.

"No, it's best not to move her, especially with those ribs," Dale disagreed as he mounted the ladder to the top of the Winnebago. "She'll be fine right there."

"I'll watch her," Daryl offered. "I ain't tired."

"Jim, do you want us to put you in your own bed?" Vin asked him, but Jim was asleep to the surprise of all, mouth slightly open.

"Y'might wanna disinfect the sheets b'fore y'move 'im back in there anyway," said Daryl as the others began to pile into the miscellaneous vehicles to wait out the rain and sleep. Glenn and Zeke helped T-Dog inside and Amy went to sleep in the passenger seat, leaving Daryl, Merle, and the two victims of Ed's brutality under the tarp.

Once he was sure that the others were out of ear shot, Daryl rounded on his brother. "And b'fore y'ask, yeah, I meant that in a hurtful way. Sophia needs a parent, at least one, and seein's how Ed's not an option, she's gotta stay with her mom or she'll go through hell just like I did."

"Now, juss wait one minute, your childhood weren't hell," said Merle, looking sour. "I kept a roof over y'head and fed ya, didn't I?"

"Whenever y'weren't in juvie or jail y'came home and bought drugs, Merle, y'were a terrible role model and not much better've a parent than Ma was."

"I wasn't tryin' t'be no damn parent, boy, I got landed with ya and I made do with what I had."

"Y'locked me in the bathroom when I was six t'go get high, Merle, what kind've a fucked up parentin' job's that?" Daryl felt safe confronting his brother for the first time. He didn't need anyone backing him up or speaking on his behalf because even though Merle was in his right mind, all the infuriated strength the drugs gave him was gone. He was still one tough bastard, but his anger didn't go as deep as Daryl's. "You were nothin' but a disappointment then and that's all y'are now 'cuz while I'm the one bustin' my ass t'try'n get 'long with these people, you're actin' like a child, pickin' fights with people, sleepin' all day, and not doin' shit 'round here. Who's the parent now, huh? I couldda left your ass back in Atlanta and let the walkers getcha, but I went back t'give ya a twenty-fourth chance, which is more'n any human deserves. I'mma tell y'now so that y'get it in that crack head've yours; if you don't grow up and start pullin' your weight, you're gonna end up just like that sack've meat in the back of the Jeep."

Merle's fist was clenched so tightly around the wooden bat that his fingernails were digging into the material. Daryl looked down and shook his head. "Go on, big brother, swing, I dare ya. I ain't no pup anymore and I'll kick your ass, see'f I don't."

Merle rested the bat on his shoulder, scoffed, and then stalked away, disappearing down the trail.

Daryl puffed air out through his nostrils and sat down hard on the ground, resting his head on his knuckles. When he looked up, he saw Jim staring at him through dark brown eyes. The sight was slightly irking, enough to the point where Daryl lifted his hands, palms up and said in a very snappish voice, "What?"

"You got him thinkin'," said Jim and then closed his eyes again.

Glancing over his shoulder to look at Merle's retreating figure, Daryl felt something tug at his heartstrings as he lay back on the uncomfortable gravel and stared up at the light blue wrinkles in the tarp above his head. He heard the soft tapping of the rain and said aloud, "He ain't comin' back."

"Nope," said Jim and the conversation ended.


	10. Chapter 10: Worth It

Daryl kept true to his word and stayed awake to keep watch over Jim and Andrea, but he paid for it when the others rose from a few hours of rest and he continued on with bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Sonya and Sophia stayed behind to look out for the wounded but everyone else marched off down the trail to where Shane and Rick were already waiting at the Jeep with a backpack for Ed. They had packed a few non-perishable items, a canteen of water, some rope, and a gardening hoe for him. It was hard to tell exactly what his expression was as he sat bound with his hands behind his back on the tailgate, his face mostly hidden behind swollen bruises and cuts, but everyone could see that he was well beyond all reasonable anger. He shunned Carol when she tried to say goodbye to him and gave Daryl a look that said he wished him a slow, painful death.

Shane rested his arm on the side of the Jeep, cocking his head to one side as he asked Ed in an undertone, "Anythin' you wanna say before we get going?"

"Fuck y'all," Ed hissed to which Carol burst into tears.

Daryl shot the middle finger at Ed when Carol wasn't looking and then taking her arm, he whispered, "He wouldn't shed a tear f'you. My brother wouldn't shed one f'me, so don't you keep this up or let your girl see."

Lori, who had heard, looked around and then asked Daryl, "Where's Merle?"

"Gone," said Daryl emptily. "Left this mornin' after y'all went t'bed."

"I'm sorry," said Lori, putting a hand on Daryl's shoulder, but he shrugged it off, frowning at her.

"I ain't." He made sure Carol saw his face when he said the words and then walked back up the trail alone. Under the tarp Jim was sitting with his bad leg outstretched, stabbing Merle's knife into the gravel to no apparent rhythm. Daryl wondered where he had gotten it, but remembered that it had fallen out of Ed's hand less than three feet from where Jim was now when Daryl had intervened. When he sat down next to Jim and rubbed at his weary eyes, Jim handed the blade back to him, handle first, but Daryl pushed it away.

"I don't want it."

"Well, I'm done using it. Besides, it ain't mine."

"It ain't mine neither; it's Merle's and he ain't comin' back so you just hold onto it."

"I don't need it," Jim insisted.

"Just 'cuz Ed's gone don't mean that you can letcher guard down, pal. Now that y'know y'ain't gonna be killed by some lunatic with a bad temper, y'might wanna start trainin' y'self on how t'use that blade properly. Trust me, y'gonna need it."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

At that moment Andrea awoke, coughing and putting her hands on her chest as her body began to have awful convulsions. Jim crawled over to her and pressed his knuckles to her forehead. "Fever," he said nervously. "Dale! Dale, get over here!"

The elder man came climbing down the ladder with his rifle ready, but when he saw Daryl and Jim gathered around Andrea, he quickly knelt down beside her and asked, "What's wrong with her?"

"She's burnin' up," said Daryl. "Are y'sure she ain't got somethin' more'n just a knocked head and fractured ribs?"

"I could have sworn it was just a fracture, but if she has flail chest or a tension pneumothorax-,"

"Tension pneum—what the hell is—in English, old timer," said Daryl impatiently. "Can it be treated here'n now or do we gotta get her some supplies or somethin'?"

"Flail chest is when two or more ribs are broken in the front or back from a lot of blunt force and tension pneumothorax is when the lung collapses, making it hard to breath since there's air caught that can't get out. I don't think she has either of these symptoms, but I can't tell for sure."

"How can y'even tell in the first place?" asked Daryl. "I thought you was a car salesman?"

"I was, but my wife was a nurse and when you're as passionate about your work as she was, you tend to let other people know about it. She always came home with stories to tell and in all that talking I took for mindless blabber, she mentioned injuries such as the ones I just told you about."

"What happens if she's got one've them symptoms or injuries or whatever the hell they are and you can't tell?"

Dale fixed Daryl and Jim with a very serious look which needed no answer and Jim took his hat off, bending over his knees for support. After a moment he licked his dry lips and said in a voice that sounded like he was going to be sick, "Tell me what I gotta go get and I'll do it."

"Now hold on, Jim-bo, you ain't goin' nowhere in your condition and even if y'didn't have one, you wouldn't be goin' nowhere 'cuz you ain't got the experience Shane, Rick, or I've got."

"But you don't give a shit about her, so get outta my face, Dixon," Jim snarled uncharacteristically.

"Think I don't?" Daryl challenged.

"Now, wait just one minute," said Dale, coming between the two. "No one's going anywhere until we find out exactly what she needs and if there's someone who can help me determine that, it'll be Vin. He went to medical school for three semesters before he dropped out."

"And just how d'you know that? The big guy can't string more'n four words t'gether in one day. He don't hardly talk."

"Not to you," said Dale shortly. "He's shy, but he'll know. Go get him, wherever the hell he's gone…"

"He's comin' up the trail now," said Daryl as he saw all of the survivors with the exception of Shane and Glenn heading back into camp and Vin stuck out like a sore thumb at the back of the group. Dale called him over so that he could assess Andrea's condition. Vin gently prodded her ribs and pushed down on her chest in certain places. Silent tears poured from Andrea's eyes as the process continued and she bit her lip so hard that blood dribbled down her chin. Jim used one of the blankets to wipe it away and when Vin began running his hands over her injuries once again she cried out.

"Shh, shh, s'alright," said Jim quietly.

Finally, Vin gave them the diagnosis. "I think it might be flail chest. Since ice is out of the question, we'll have to find some way to get something cold and put it on the ribs. She'll need pain killers and a breathing apparatus, neither of which we have here."

"Didn't your brother have meds?" Jim asked Daryl.

"Did," said Daryl. "I kept a few painkillers, but she'll need more. And this breathing apparition-,"

"Apparatus," Vin corrected.

"Whatever. Just tell me what it looks like and I'll go."

"I'm coming," said Jim firmly.

"No, y'ain't," said Daryl with equal stubbornness.

"Well, I'm going," said Dale. "I know what the supplies look like. I know what you're going to say," he added as Daryl opened his mouth to argue, "but I know how to shoot a rifle and I'm actually a fair shot. Throw in the fact that I used to jump hurdles in track and you've got a pretty damn good fighter. Only setback is my age, but you need me and that's something that can't be helped. I'll go and in case—in case I don't make it back, Vin will take care of her."

Andrea grasped Dale's wrist and shook her head ever so slightly. It must have caused her too much pain to try and speak and so she tried to communicate with her eyes that she didn't want him going anywhere.

"I've gotta try, Andrea," Dale told her softly. "You're not going to make it unless we bring back those supplies. Besides, I've got Daryl so I'm probably in better hands than you. I'll come back and you can hold me to that."

"I'm coming," said Jim again.

"Yeah, I'd like t'see that," Daryl laughed, choosing a pistol and a rifle from the weapon supply as Dale found a pistol to his own liking and a crowbar. "Y'got one useful arm, one good leg, and a wound in your side, Jim. You'd just slow us down and get y'self killed. It ain't worth the risk."

"I think it is." With that Jim jammed his hat back on and stood up, tearing off his sling. He took one wobbly step towards the extinguished fire pit and then stomped over to it, picking up a shovel. He walked back to where Daryl stood and if Daryl hadn't actually seen Ed stab him, he would never have guessed or known that Jim was the victim of four knife wounds. Dale handed Jim a Colt Trooper which Jim tucked into the front of his pants.

"If you're sure you can keep up…"

"I can, just watch me," Jim assured.

"I'm tellin' ya, I don't like this one bit," said Daryl to Dale in a side note.

Dale shrugged. "Well it's not your opinion that matters, son. Jim's a stubborn ass and if he wants to go, he's going to go unless someone ties him to a tree and knocks him out."

"Don't think that ain't crossed my mind," Daryl said under his breath.

"We'll need one more man," said Dale. He explained the situation to the others and as expected, Rick and Lori immediately began to pull out a long list of reasons why they couldn't go. Daryl drummed his fingers impatiently against the side of the RV as he watched them try and start a debate, but when he could take it no longer he slammed his fist against the side, bringing all the attention to him.

"Y'all can bitch 'bout all the reasons by we shouldn't go, but we only need one reason t'tell us that we _gotta_ go. She's gonna die if we don't. Now unless someone's got a better idea, we're goin'. So if you got somethin', speak up 'cuz we ain't waitin' 'round much longer."

"I'll go," Zeke offered.

"Me too," said Rick.

"Don't forget what happened the last time we took a big group into the city," said Morales, holding his daughter close to his leg. "Five men, one of them wounded and one over sixty years old running into the heart of Atlanta where the hospital is to get supplies. It'd be easier with just two."

"Naw, I'll give ya a valid reason why each of us need t'go: Rick and I are both the best shooters and fighters in camp b'sides Shane who ain't here; Dale knows what we're lookin' for, and Zeke lived in Atlanta so he knows the hospital—right?" He added with a hesitant look at Zeke who nodded, for which he was grateful because he had totally bullshitted the reason why Zeke should come. He just felt more secure with someone who he had seen use a gun.

"And Jim?" asked Amy. "Why does he get to go and not me? I'm her sister-,"

"And y'don't know nothin' 'bout weapons, fightin', or much anythin' else that'd be useful out there," said Daryl plainly. "Jim…he knows how t'hot wire a car which we might need if we can't back to the Ram Wagon, which is what we're gonna take."

"You people are going to get yourselves killed out there," said Morales. "Haven't enough of us died already?"

Daryl took a moment to reflect on these words. No one Daryl knew had died besides Louis. Ed had been thrown out; Merle had willingly left. Morales was only referring to his son, but in the apocalypse where human life was precious, even one death made the group weaker, smaller, and more likely to tear itself apart. Was Andrea's life worth risking five of theirs? Unlike Daryl, she had people who cared deeply about her and people who would certainly be grieved by her death. Amy, Dale, and Jim were in the former category and if she died, the group might just have three suicidal beings on their hands.

In which case yes, Andrea was sure as hell worth it.

" We'll be back as soon as we can," said Daryl. "C'mon, y'all." He climbed into the driver's seat while Jim, Dale, and Rick gathered on the seat behind him. He was glad that Rick hadn't taken much time to say goodbye to his wife and son like the last time. Tearful goodbyes were nothing but time wasters. Zeke took a moment to grab a few weapons of choice and then took the passenger seat. Turning around to check that there was nothing directly behind the van, he saw that Jim had turned completely around in his seat to get one last look at Andrea.

"She's gonna be fine, Jim-bo, don't you worry none," said Daryl with false optimism, for he knew Jim wouldn't believe him until they actually returned.

In the rear view mirror Daryl saw the survivors watching dismally as they left, a bad omen to be sent off on.


	11. Chapter 11: Downtown Atlanta Again

Daryl put the Ram Wagon in park close to where the moving van had been parked when he went back for Merle. He tucked the keys into his back pocket, though he knew that if someone with hot wiring skills came through and wanted the Wagon badly enough, they'd take it with or without the keys. He shut the door as quietly as he could and turned expectantly to Zeke.

"Iss all you from here, bud, 'cuz I don't know where the hell I'm goin'."

"The hospital's a brown building, ten stories high," said Zeke. "It's in between the satellite building and the drill firm, so we're looking for the building in the middle of town between the black seventeen story and gray thirty-four story."

"So, that one," said Rick, pointing with his rifle at the gray building poking up over the tops of the smaller roofs. To its right was a black building much smaller in height and between them there looked to be enough room to fit a whole other structure.

"Yes, that's exactly what we're looking for," said Zeke. "So much for the easy part. Now, the fastest way there is to take Gilpin Road up to East Seventeenth and then go right for about four blocks until we reach Nucla Drive and the hospital should be on our immediate left."

"Yeah, that's the fastest way, but what if takin' a back road is the safer way?" asked Daryl. "We wanna get in'n out without makin' any pit stops t'deal with walkers and even with our manpower, there's more'n enough walkers out there t'take us all out within seconds. And with Jim'n Dale, I'd feel safer goin' a longer way than a faster way 'cuz fast normally means wide open space and no cover from walkers."

"Why don't we just hotwire a car and drive it right up to the hospital?" Zeke suggested, but Rick cut him down instantly.

"That's how we nearly got overrun the last time; I brought the moving van right next to the building where the others were hiding and we had walkers closing in all around us within seconds. We're just going to have to walk and hope that we aren't seen. If Andrea doesn't have that much time, we need to get there as fast as possible."

"It's not that she's dying," said Dale quickly. "She's just _going_ to die unless we bring her back those supplies if that makes sense."

"It don't, but off topic, I'm hopin' Ed Peltier shows up 'round here. It'd be nice t'pay 'im back for what he done," said Daryl wistfully.

"We'll take the roads I suggested," said Zeke as if Daryl had not spoken. "Duck and weave's the maneuver we'll work on here. We'll hide until we see an opening and if any walker gets in our way, we'll use silent force to take it down, only resorting to the guns if it's absolutely necessary."

"Jim, you're the only one who don't know how to shoot," said Daryl as Jim leaned on his spade and dabbed at his forehead with his forearm.

"I've shot a few times out on the range," said Jim. "I'll be fine."

"Well, then, I guess we're all ready. Zeke, get us in there and I'll get us out and I'll even get ya some chocolate on the way out if it ain't spoiled."

Zeke shot Daryl a filthy look. "That's about as funny as a walker taking a bite out of someone's nether regions."

With Zeke in the lead and Daryl only slightly behind him, they took off up Gilpin Road. Their first encounter with a walker was halfway down the seventh consecutive block where the corpse was munching on what looked like a half-eaten bird. It paid them no attention as they sprinted by, for which Daryl was thankful. He knew he'd need to save up as much energy as possible for the hospital where there were likely to be dozens of walkers. When the epidemic broke out, anyone with a bite was rushed to the hospital where, once they reanimated, they bit the nurses, doctors, visitors, and uninfected patients until the place was overwhelmed with the undead. And since the walkers had absolutely no sense to go _looking _for food, they would probably still be inside the darkened hallways, meandering around with about as much motivation to leave as Ed had to come running back into camp begging forgiveness and promising to stop being an asshole.

Still, the lack of walkers on the road made Daryl uneasy, especially since they had seen more walkers on the side roads coming out of the mountains than they had since they arrived in Atlanta. Dale had no trouble keeping up, but strayed to the back of the group to assist Jim whose leg was beginning to take a toll on him. His run slowly developed into more of a hobble which gave way to the strangest forward shuffle Daryl had ever seen, but Jim's face was set and he used the spade handle as a vaulting tool to propel him forward for double the distance his injured leg took away.

At the intersection of Gilpin and East Seventeenth, they saw a band of around thirty walkers stumbling around in front of the courthouse. The group found cover behind an ambulance and Dale even ventured inside to look for their supplies, but the vehicle had been looted, stripped down to nothing but bloody rags and broken glass. Crouching low, Daryl asked Rick in a throaty whisper, "We got anythin' t'distract 'em with? Make 'em go in the opposite direction?"

"Yeah, we've got five highly edible human beings," said Zeke derisively. "Come on, Daryl, there is no distracting a group that big without throwing the towel in. We're just going to have to make a run for it. By the time they catch on to what we're doing, we'll be far enough up the street to outrun them. After all, they can't speed up much whereas we can reach a sprint."

"Not all of us can," Dale reminded him. "I can run, but I haven't sprinted in about nine years and Jim's in no position to be putting that much strain on his leg."

"So carry him," said Daryl unhelpfully.

"Only person here big enough to carry him is me and I'm not doing it," said Zeke.

"Alright, let's just think for a sec," said Rick, looking left and right to make sure that no stray walkers were closing in on them. "How far'd you say it was from here?"

"Four blocks," said Zeke. "But we don't know what we're going to find in front of the hospital. If it was jam packed with people trying to get inside after the bites started popping up, we should expect a number in the neighborhood of two hundred."

"Then why the hell are we even tryin' t'get there? Two hundred walkers? Just put a fuckin' bullet in my head right now and save me the trouble."

"I said it could be, not that it would be," said Zeke. "There's always that chance that they've wandered off or at least cleared out a bit."

"Wishful thinking," said Dale, double checking his rounds.

"Hell, boys, let's just go for it," said Daryl edgily. "If it's too hot we can always turn 'round and try someplace else like a medical station or another ambulance. There's gotta be a lotta them layin' round here."

Jim used his shovel to straighten up and show that he was ready to go. Rick didn't look sold on the idea, but seeing as how they didn't have a better one, he had to go with it. Zeke, on the other hand, looked well beyond terrified and held his bat in an insecure grip. Dale took several deep breaths in through his mouth and out his nose before bobbing his head.

Daryl was in the process of sprinting for it when Zeke grabbed him around the throat and pulled him back. "Wait, wait, wait, I have an idea!" Rubbing at his neck irritably, Daryl watched him creep along to a car about twenty feet from the walkers but off to the other side of the building so that their gaze did not include the ambulance. He beat his fist on the car's hood several times until the walkers began limping in his direction, attracted by the sound.

"Go, go now!" urged Rick.

Daryl and the other three started out on the road slowly, unable to help themselves as they watched the walkers make their way toward the car and then when they saw Zeke pounding straight towards them they all broke into a run, dispatching a few drifting walkers as they headed for Nucla Drive. Looking straight up, Daryl could see the black and gray towers casting long afternoon shadows onto the streets below and the thought occurred to him that if he was going to die in Atlanta that he would much rather jump off the top of one of those buildings than barricade himself in a tight spot, waiting for help that would never come. Just like Zeke had said, the hospital was on their immediate left and the number of walkers in front of it wasn't nearly as bad as two hundred.

There were only about fifty.

Only.

"Aw, _hell_ no," moaned Daryl as he sank onto his haunches behind another car. Rick ducked down beside him and the other three hid on the far side of a pickup truck.

"Still too many to even try and get inside," said Zeke, shaking his head. "We'll have to find something else-,"

"Maybe another entrance, a back one," Dale suggested.

"Naw, any back entrance's prob'ly locked up tight t'keep the walkers inside."

"Diversion's lookin' good right about now, huh?" said Jim. "I can start up this truck here and someone can drive it through 'em, maybe even take out a few of 'em and then drive it up the street, jump out, and double back this way."

"Who's gonna go?"

"I will," Rick volunteered. "I've seen this technique used before and I think I can pull it off best. Once I draw them away, get inside, clear the lobby and wait for me, but if I don't make it in five minutes, start looking for the supplies. I'll get there eventually."

"And if y'never show up, we'll take that as the go-ahead t'head back t'camp," Daryl finished.

Jim stood up and rammed the metal end of his shovel through the truck's window. For some reason the burglar alarm was not triggered, which allowed him to reach under the panel and work his magic without worrying about the walkers reaching them. The engine roared to life and Rick climbed into the front seat, his Colt Python in his lap.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," he said uneasily. He pressed the pedal to the floor and the truck shot off towards the walkers. Daryl had to admit, Rick was a kick ass driver as the former officer hit the brakes, whirling the truck around so that it took out about four walkers all clumped together. He backed up and shot forward a few times to trample as many walkers as he could and then started inching the truck forward until the walkers all began to pursue the vehicle. It seemed to take forever as they sat waiting for enough clearance to enter the building, but when Rick had led the walkers about half a block away, Daryl patted Zeke's shoulder.

"Let's go."

Dale and Jim watched their rear as they crossed the street, feeling old habits die hard as they all simultaneously looked up both sides of the road for passing cars. The thought echoed in the back of Daryl's brain and he actually let out a laugh that sounded more like an insane cackle in the ghost streets of downtown Atlanta.

_Watch out for passing cars_…

_Aw, shuddap and pull y'self t'gether, y'dumbass,_ Daryl reprimanded himself. He hopped over a bike rack and stopped just outside the door, trying to get a good look of the inside without revealing too much of himself to anything that could be standing out in the open in full view of the doorway. The windows were slightly tinted, making it very difficult to see. They had no way of telling what awaited them just inside the wide open doors.

"Do you see something?" asked Dale urgently.

Daryl shook his head once, but remained still, flexing his finger on the trigger of his rifle. Sensing his hesitation, Jim gave him a nudge in the ribs. "We didn't run like hell out here t'just look inside. We might as well go in, don't y'think?"

_Go inside, no fuckin' way. Y'ain't never gonna come out, Daryl, and y'know it,_ said the voice of reason in the back of Daryl's head.

_Shut the hell up_, said the survivor.

"Well, damn it, Jim, goin' in's the last thing I wanna be doin', but the one thing I came here t'do, so what the hell?" With Dale on his left, Jim on his right, and Zeke behind him, Daryl tucked his rifle into the crook of his arm, prepared to fire as the four of them stepped over the shattered glass that used to be the automatic doors and entered what would probably be their worst nightmare.


	12. Chapter 12: Tenth Floor and Descending

It wasn't their worst nightmare, but it came pretty damn close. Walkers in white lab coats, light blue two pieces with stethoscopes around their necks, and long hospital gowns were roaming around the lobby, bumping into each other and bounding off the walls. There was nowhere for the group to run but back outside and since that would only be a waste of time, they took a stand in the doorway, battering weapons raised in striking position.

"Find the stairs," Daryl whispered, reading overhead signs to locate the staircase which was their best chance.

"There," said Zeke, pointing his rake at the far end of the lobby where two walkers were standing in front of the "In Case of Emergency Use Stairs" sign.

"Run for it," said Dale. "Now!"

Daryl was in the front and cleared the way, striking out at walkers left and right. Their sudden movement made the seemingly peaceful environment suddenly hostile as the walkers staggered after them. Zeke beat one of the two walkers in front of the sign away and Jim took the other as Daryl slammed into the door with his shoulder and opened it. He let the others pass through first and then closed it with a loud thud and a click, searching for a lock, but finding none. As he pressed himself against it, he motioned to the others. "Get to the top floor and work y'way down t'find the supplies. I'll catch y'up in a sec."

"What about Rick?" asked Dale.

"If he made it, he'll know where we've gone by lookin' at all the walkers on the other side've the damn door and wait for us outside. Now go on!"

Zeke led the way up the first flight, Dale and Jim tailing him about three steps behind. Daryl leaned back to watch their progress as they wound their way up the staircase. From the other side of the door the walkers were moaning and pounding their bodies against the wall on either side of the doorway. When Daryl saw that the others had reached the fifth floor he hoisted his crossbow and rifle further up on his shoulders and took off up the stairs, skipping every two steps. He had caught up to his group by the seventh floor but when they heard him coming, they lifted their weapons, thinking he was a walker.

"What're y'all waitin' for? Go, go, go!"

As they slowed down at the last flight before the roof, Daryl loaded an arrow into his crossbow and pressed a finger to his lips. He opened the door precariously, screwing up his eyes as it creaked in what seemed like a deafening echo. He nodded at the hallway to his right where one of the overhead labels read "Authorized Personal Only". Dale snuck forward, checking around the corner for walkers. He held up two fingers and flattening out his hand, using it as a pointer to motion at the corpses.

"Zeke, let's you'n me go take care've 'em quietly as we can. Y'got a knife?" asked Daryl, pulling his own free of its scabbard.

"Yeah, I have one," Zeke affirmed, showing Daryl.

"Then let's go." Daryl padded silently across the linoleum floor and overtook the shorter of the two walkers by driving the blade straight up through the base of the brain. Beside him Zeke thrust his through the walker's left eye socket a few times and then lowered it to the ground to avoid making any unnecessary noise. Wiping the purplish-red blood off on the walker's elastic pants, Daryl went back to stand guard next to Dale while the older man examined the door which was locked, having been closed when the power shut off the automatic security system. Through the double paned windows, and biohazard warning sign, Daryl could see cabinets and drawers full of enough supplies to fill every druggie's fantasy.

"Just break the damn glass already," said Daryl anxiously.

"That's probably the stupidest thing I could do right now," Dale responded, fiddling with the knob some more.

"Look, we're lucky this floor ain't swamped like some've the others might be and if any walker does hear it, they ain't smart 'nough t'pinpoint the sound, so I think we'll be just fine. C'mon, old man, time's a'wastin'."

"You break it," Dale insisted, stepping back.

Daryl turned his head away from the window and smashed the glass. The first pane broke and then he struck again, smashing the second one so that he could reach his hand through and turn the handle. The door opened and Dale beckoned Zeke inside who had the backpack while Daryl and Jim guarded the door, waiting on tenterhooks for a walker to appear. Jim leaned back against the wall and turned his leg in the position of the window from the elevator lobby so that the light fell on it. Dark red stains were coming through his jeans where the knife wound had reopened. He used Merle's knife to rip off a long line of his plaid over shirt and tied it around the wound to make a tourniquet which he knotted off tightly, flinching.

"Y'okay?" Daryl asked him in concern.

"Fine," Jim mumbled.

"Which is 'nother way've sayin' 'no'," Daryl added. He whispered through the broken glass panes, "Ain't y'all done yet?"

"Patience doesn't run deep in the Dixon family, does it?" said Dale irritably, stuffing a few items into the backpack.

"Damn straight, now will y'hurry up?"

"I'm trying, just give me a minute."

"We still gotta figure out how we're gonna get out 'cuz we can't go back the way we came," Daryl said, realizing the fact for himself. "There's gotta be 'nother staircase 'round here somewhere."

"Back of the building most likely," said Jim.

"Finished," said Dale triumphantly, helping Zeke put the now bulging backpack on. "South staircase it is, then."

Daryl tried to lead the way, but when they passed the same kiosk four times, he gave up and began rummaging around the desk for a map of some sort to help them locate the other staircase. Jim found a layout built into the counter and traced the hallways with his finger from the red "You Are Here" mark. "If we head down this hallway in the center, we should make a right after we pass the waiting room and then continue on 'till we reach the secondary elevators where the stairs are."

The directions were easy enough to follow, but they came across another walker that looked as if its skin was melting off. Its eyes were so sunken in that Daryl thought at first it couldn't see them, but of course he rethought that after the walker nearly grabbed onto Dale's ankle and Jim smashed its head in with his shovel. When the south elevator lobby was in sight the group sped up and Jim was about to open the door when they heard something pounding up the steps from the other side. Daryl knew that walkers couldn't move that fast but his ever-ready mind thought of someone who was bitten and trying to outrun the walkers which was just as bad. He grabbed Jim by the back of his sweaty over shirt and yanked him out of the way just as the door burst open, ricocheting off of the wall from the force with which it was hit.

Rick stood there breathing heavily with a nasty looking gash across his cheek. "Not that way," he panted as he seized Zeke's arm and turned him around, jogging back up the hall.

"Wait—hey! Just wait one minute here, why not that way?" asked Daryl, following in the rear.

"Why do you think?" Rick retorted. "I got into the lobby and saw the main staircase blocked off, so I tried looking for another way up. Well, I found it, problem is, about fifteen other walkers did too."

"Then we ain't got a way out, smartass!" said Daryl in indignation.

"Yes, we do," said Rick. "If there are any walkers on the staircase, it'll be too narrow for more than two of them to get at us at one time, so we can beat them back as we make our way down to the second floor. We can jump out of one of the windows and hopefully land in the bushes."

"Hopefully land in the bushes," Daryl repeated. "Oh, 'cuz that's much better'n just fightin' our way back through the lobby!"

"Daryl's right," Dale concurred. "Even if there are bushes, what's to say they'll be thick enough to break our fall _and_ cushion it?"

"It's our only option right now," said Rick heavily as they came upon the north lobby again. They went back through the door, leaning over the railing to look straight down. Luckily there were enough windows to shed light on the entire staircase, but they saw walkers milling around on various landings and Daryl swore. He and Rick started down first with their ramming weapons while Zeke took the rear to keep Dale and Jim in between them. They fought their way down each flight, kicking disposed of walkers aside until they reached the second floor landing where they stopped to take a brief rest. There were walkers two flights below on the first floor and the in the basement, but they hadn't seen the survivors yet. Finally Daryl gave a dry cough, preparing himself for action and Rick did the same when the third floor door opened, spewing out three walkers. In such close quarters they couldn't swing any weapons and so they had to resort to their pistols which alerted the walkers below. Jim and Rick took out two of the three corpses, but the third had grabbed Dale and the old man panicked, forgetting the limited amount of space to stand. He lost his balance and toppled down the stairs, unintentionally doing a backwards somersault. Daryl seized the walker to prevent it from nipping Dale on his way down and stuck his knife through its temple two times before pushing it over the railing.

"Dale!" Jim cried. "Dale, get up!"

Where Dale had fallen, the old man was touching his fingers to his nose where blood spurted out. He looked down at his ankle which was bent in a position ankles should never bend in. Walkers were closing in from his left as they stumbled up the steps. Dale had enough sense to pull out his rifle and shoot, but he was losing ground fast.

"Rick, cover us!" Daryl shouted as he bounded down the steps with Zeke behind him. Together the two of them lifted Dale between them and made their way up the stairs sideways as Rick used his Colt to hold the walkers off. They shoved their way through the second floor door and set Dale down just inside as they began barricading the entryway. As Daryl shook the contents off of a coffee table and set it against the door he felt Dale tug on his pant leg and spun around to see about twelve walkers coming their way.

"Aw, shit," Daryl growled. He handed Dale his pistol so that the older man could defend himself and then brought his crowbar back out, running to the left to lead the walkers over towards another kiosk. Jim came at the walkers from behind, beheading one walker with his shovel. Daryl was only slightly less than awestruck at how the mechanic managed to do that, but as a female walker grappled for his crossbow, he had to bring himself back to his senses. Zeke joined them shortly, battling his way towards Jim. As Zeke took down a walker that was sneaking up behind Jim another suddenly snatched at Jim's arm and he tumbled back in alarm, knocking into the kiosk and falling backwards over it. The walker fell to its knees beside him and Daryl threw himself over the desk, rugby tackling the damned thing as he struck out with his knife. Once he had disposed of the threat, he took Jim by the shoulders and shook him, slapping the back of his hand against the latter's cheek roughly.

"Hey, focus, Jim! Lookit me! Are y'bit? Did it getcha? _Jim_?"

"No…" Jim moaned, "but…"

"But what?" Daryl demanded. "What-?"

Spotting fresh blood on the floor trailing out from underneath Jim, Daryl could see clearly "what". When the walker had attacked him, Jim had lost his shovel and as he fell over the desk, he had landed on the metal part which was now just protruding from his already injured thigh. With shaking hands, Jim tried to pull himself up enough to turn over. Daryl lifted Jim onto his right side and held him up with one hand while he groped the shovel handle with the other. Wasting no time in preparing Jim for the very serious pain likely to follow, he yanked the blade end out and Jim gave an agonizing cry, coughing up blood.

"Deeeargh, fuckin' son've a bitch!" he choked.

"Daryl, that barricade's not gonna hold, we gotta go now!" shouted Rick.

Zeke put his arm under Jim's back and bad leg while Daryl took the other side and they backed up into one of the patient rooms to put him on the gurney as Rick dragged Dale in behind them. Daryl gathered their fallen weapons and slammed the door shut just as he heard the barricade begin to give way. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath as Zeke locked the door and for some reason drew the curtain around the bed as he too sank down and took several deep breaths.

"Now what, genius?" Daryl asked Rick.

"Now we wait."

"For what? _What _exactly?" Daryl demanded.

"Hell if I know, Daryl, but we don't have a way out right now," said Rick heavily.

Daryl looked up at Jim who was scrunching up his face in pain. They had two men incapacitated and no way out.

_Son've a _bitch!


	13. Chapter 13: Seventeenth and Gilpin Bound

Jim had gone off the deep end a bit by the time the noise outside the room quieted down. According to Dale's well cared for watch, it was almost seven o'clock and starting to get dark outside.

_That's all we need,_ thought Daryl depressingly to himself, _to be stuck out here after dark with no food, low on ammo, and two men in critical condition. Can this day get _any_ better?_

Zeke opened the door a crack and pressed his eye to the opening, but quickly shut the door and shook his head as he dipped his face down next to the sink and splashed some water on it. Rick was using the bed sheets to tie Dale's ankle to the broken half of Zeke's rake and the old man was looking rather green in the face as he tried to get some sleep on the floor. Daryl took a rough observation of Jim's temperature, expecting the worse, but being surprised nonetheless at how the mechanic was pulling through. He found some towels in the drawers next to the sink and kept the sweat at bay by wiping Jim's forehead every few minutes. But if they were still stuck in the hospital in the morning Jim might go comatose or delirious, neither of which they could afford if they wanted to take him with them.

"I dunno 'bout the rest've you, but I ain't lookin' t'stay here much longer," said Daryl at last. "The activity out there's gotta have died out by now."

"I just checked and there's about fifteen walkers out there," said Zeke. "With only three of us in fighting state, that's not a chance I'm willing to take."

"I ain't talkin' 'bout goin' back there, I mean that we gotta jump out the window. We ain't that high up and the bushes look thick 'nough. I'll go out first, make sure everythin's clear and then the two've you can throw Dale and Jim out."

"_Throw them_?" said Rick in horror. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?" Daryl asked resentfully.

"We sure as hell can't _throw_ them out. We can use the bed sheets and lower them down, but we'll need more in order to make a secure enough rope."

"So that means we have to go back out there," said Zeke, closing his eyes in resignation. "Great."

"I'll go," said Rick. Keep the doorway open for me because I'm gonna be sprinting back this way. While I'm drawing their attention down the hall, you two go yank the sheets off of some more beds and I'll say 'Atlanta' when I'm comin' back."

"What's the significance of 'Atlanta'?" asked Dale as he loaded his rifle with a few more bullets.

"No significance, it's not important," said Rick, picking up his bat. "Just be ready."

"I think I can see stars," said Jim from the gurney.

Daryl shared a look of concern with Dale and then followed Rick to the door where Rick put his hand on the knob. He nodded to Daryl and threw the door open, shouting at the top of his lungs as he banged his bat against the walls to draw the walkers away. Once the walkers were far enough down the hall to deem the immediate area safe to search, Daryl and Zeke shot out into the other rooms, seizing the bed sheets and stuffing them under their arms as they went. Daryl had raided three rooms when he heard Rick yelling "Atlanta, Atlanta right now, damn it!"

"That's our cue, Daryl!" Zeke hollered as he rushed back into their room with his arms full of white (and in a few cases rather yellow) sheets. Daryl deposited his own pile near the window where Zeke and Dale began to frantically tie them together in large, secure knots. Daryl stood beside the door as he saw Rick charging up the hallway and as the former officer skidded through the door, Daryl slammed the door into its casing, locking it once again. In moments he felt the vibrations passing through the door as the walkers tried to break it down. He and Rick helped the other two to tie off the bed sheets so that they were long enough to be secured around a body and have enough slack to lower them.

"We'll lower Jim and Dale down to you and then jump," said Zeke as he began tying his line of sheets around Dale's waist. "Once we're on the ground, we'll start making our way back up East Seventeenth. I can sprint out to the van and crash it through the gate to bring it closer."

"We'll decide that once we get back on the ground," said Daryl as he instructed Jim to sit up slightly so that he could tie the other sheet rope around his midsection above his hip injury. "F'now we gotta figure out how we're gonna get these two movin' if they can't walk on their own."

"I can walk," said Jim adamantly.

"Yeah, and I can shit out rainbows," scoffed Daryl, helping him over to the window. He and Zeke smashed their weapons into it and ran them along the frame to clear out any glass fragments just as the door behind them gave a loud rumble.

"That ain't gonna hold f'much longer." Daryl gathered up his weapons and patted Dale on the back. "I'll catch ya, don't worry." He wrung Jim's blood-stained hand and swung one leg over the frame, lowering himself until he was literally hanging on by his fingernails. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his fingertips as they rubbed up against glass and let go, windmilling his arms as he fell through space for about a second and a half before his world became prickly and green. He had landed in the bed of bushes, though a few branches were sticking in some unmentionable places and he winced as he pulled them out, rolling over to prepare himself for the others' descent. He checked the ground around him for any sign of walkers, but saw none and waved up to the window for the go-ahead. Zeke and Rick had Dale sit on the window frame (a rather excruciating thing for any man to watch) and then began to lower him one inch at a time. Dale had one hand around the bed sheet rope while the other was clutching his bat. When he was about four feet above Daryl the line came up short and Daryl said as loud as he dared, "Drop him!"

"No, please don't do that," Dale moaned, looking straight down and Daryl realized that the old man was afraid of heights.

"Hell've a time t'get scared, Dale! Drop 'im now!"

Zeke and Rick complied and Dale cursed as he fell straight down onto Daryl who managed to catch him in both arms, but quickly set him down to get ready for Jim. "Watch my back," he told Dale as the older man took a knee behind him and cocked his rifle. In a fashion very different from Dale, Jim was lowered out of the window, but he looked like he was attempting an upside down spider monkey pose, for he had no grip whatsoever on the rope, instead holding his shovel in one hand and Rick's shotgun in the other. There was no more slack when he was about six feet above Daryl who stretched his arms out as far in front of himself as he could.

"You're gonna be just fine, Jim, but whatever y'do, don't look down."

"Couldn't if I wanted to," said Jim.

"Alright, let 'im go now," said Daryl and he saw a giant shadow descend over him as Jim hit him with a lot more force than Dale had. He collapsed under Jim's weight but the latter didn't seem to mind as he lay for the most part, motionless where he fell. As Daryl reached for his crossbow where he had set it down, he heard the unmistakable sound of something large and solid hitting the floor from above.

The door had given way.

The next moment Zeke literally went flying through the air as Rick hurtled him out the window. Zeke just barely came up short of missing the bushes and from overhead Daryl saw Rick grappling with two walkers that were trying to gnaw into his arms. Daryl raised his crossbow and Dale moved his rifle aim, but Rick called them off.

"No! Get out! Tell Lori-!"

But before he could finish his sentence he went under the swarm of walkers that had finally broken into the room. Daryl covered his mouth with his hand and looked away, but what he saw instead didn't soothe his feelings of dread and despair at all. Zeke and Dale were both gazing in transfixed horror at the spot where Rick had disappeared, not seeming to comprehend what had just happened. Jim was still staring straight up at the darkening sky, lost in his own thoughts…that was, until he heard Rick's screams drifting out through the window.

Like some gaunt figure or ghost, Jim rose straight up and a little more blood dribbled down his leg. He raised a pistol to where there was a walker leering down at them from the second floor and before Daryl could stop him, he fired off a shot, clipping the walker across the temple. Daryl wrestled the pistol away from him before he could get off another round, but by then Jim was already sobbing into his palm.

"We're gonna lose everybody out here," he said through tears of desperation. "We'll never get back to her and then she's gonna die too…"

Daryl slapped him hard across the face. "You snap out've it and act like a fuckin' man! We ain't done yet, hear me? We're gonna make it."

"You might, I'm not. You—can't—carry—me."

"Watch me." Daryl pulled Jim's upper body up over his shoulders and slung him over his own, dipping down slightly from the weight, but he managed to straighten up and walk over to Dale who was sitting helplessly on the grass with dry blood caked onto his face, mingling with his white and gray beard. "Zeke, pick 'im up and let's get the hell outta here."

"You can't carry me and defend yourselves at the same time," said Dale, casting his eyes down in self-loathing. "Leave me here and get the supplies back to Andrea. Tell her I put a bullet in my mouth-,"

"Naw, I tell ya what I'mma do, old man, I'm gonna stick a cork in your mouth if y'don't' shut the hell up and lemme do my fuckin' job! Zeke! Pick 'im up, get 'im—now!"

"Dar—yl…" said Zeke slowly, "that's not a walker, is it?"

"Where?" asked Daryl, spinning around and nearly losing his grip on Jim. Zeke was pointing across the street where a male figure was ambling towards them in the calmest manner Daryl had ever seen. The man was not a walker, or at least not yet. He came to a halt right in front of Daryl and then smacked him upside the head.

"Y'stole my knife, jackass," said Daryl's older brother in a disapproving voice.

"Is that Merle?" asked Dale, gaping in astonishment.

"Yeah, now shaddap and stay like that," Merle snapped as he pulled Dale into a standing position and slung the older man's arm over his shoulders. "You, Zach or whatever the hell your name is, keep in front've us and start walkin'."

Once it started darkening, night came fast and the group found themselves wandering down Seventeenth and then Gilpin with no cover and no way of telling if the walkers they passed saw them or not. Daryl began to sag with Jim's weight who in turn kept up a constant stream of swearwords, begging Daryl to drop him and leave him but every time he did Daryl would pinch him hard in the leg to give it feeling. As they went, Daryl kept wondering over and over where Merle had come from, how he knew where to find them, and why he had come to their rescue, especially after the less-than-cordial parting earlier. Had it really only been that morning when Daryl had watched his brother walk off down the trail in a very final sort of way?

"You're lollygaggin', Daryl, shuffle y'feet or get left b'hind," said Merle when they had only two blocks to go.

"Shove it up, y'ass," Daryl retorted, adjusting Jim's weight across his shoulders.

Zeke, who was out in front suddenly came to a dead halt which prompted the others to stop behind him. It didn't matter how it happened, it only mattered that it _had_ happened and Daryl had to exercise every amount of self control he had to not ruin it for them all as they cautiously backed up, praying that the horde of walkers Rick had driven off earlier did not see them. They had had all day to get this far past the hospital and now they were inconveniently blocking the street, making it impossible to even attempt to cross it. The group dropped down next to a school bus to discuss what they were going to do next.

"We'll have to double back up Warrington and then turn left once we reach the archway to find the van," said Zeke but at that moment Daryl sank down onto his knees, setting Jim down behind him and rubbing his biceps in fatigue. Since he had been the first to show signs of weariness, Merle finally gave in too and let go of Dale, though not quite so gently as Daryl had let go of his luggage.

"Are we stuck here, then, or what?"

"No, I'll run and get the van," said Zeke, looking terrified at the prospect. "I know my way better than you two and I'll know where to find cover if I need it. Just stay here and when you hear me coming, get ready to throw them into the van. I'll open up the doors so you can just jump in after the others, but you're going to have to be fast because they're going to hear me coming and then every walker within ten blocks is going to start migrating this way. Sound good?"

"Naw, that sounds terrible, but it ain't like we got options," said Daryl pessimistically, digging in his pocket for the keys to the Ram Wagon. For one heart-stopping moment he thought he had lost them, but forced himself to calm down and search again, locating them deep down where everything of importance always seems to hide in the moment you need it most. He handed the ring off to Zeke who took Rick's shotgun and his other weapons, crossing himself forebodingly.

Merle cleared his throat impatiently and asked, "Are y'prayin' t'end world hunger or what?"

Zeke furrowed his brow in thought and with the comment, "That is incredibly ironic," took off down Warrington so that in moments he was swallowed by the enveloping darkness.


	14. Chapter 14: The Best Role Model

"How long's he been gone?" Merle asked Dale for what Daryl felt was the hundredth time.

"I swear, Merle, if you ask me that one more time, I'm going to pop you in the mouth with this rifle," said Dale forcibly.

"That's thinkin' with your ass," Merle jeered. "Then who's gonna carry ya? But that guy's been gone too long f'my likin'. I tell ya, I heard gunshots and if somethin's happened t'him, we ain't any better off with 'im leavin' us the supplies,"

"Keep it down," Daryl warned, finding Jim's shoulder in the dark and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You doin' okay?"

"Ask me again when we get back to camp," Jim moaned.

"He'll be fine," said Merle dismissively. "Y'should worry 'bout what y'gonna tell that cop's family."

"Leave that to me," said Dale. "With how Lori reacts to things, she might blame Daryl and this was in no way his fault. Hey—do you hear me, Daryl? Because I'm talking to you."

Pretending like he hadn't heard Dale, Daryl asked Merle, "How'd y'know where t'find us?"

Merle looked slightly guilty. "Well, maybe I kinda sorta followed ya on my'bike."

Daryl gawked at him. "How'd y'get the bike outta camp without anyone seein'?"

"Everyone else was juss busy and I rolled it out manually, took it down the hill, and staked out next t'the road. I dunno why I thought t'wait, but iss a good thing I did, otherwise y'wouldda had t'leave the old man b'hind. I figured you'd be needin' some help, 'specially when y'got a bad habit've getting' knee deep in shit every time y'go off of y'own."

"Slippery bastard," said Daryl, trying and failing to sound unimpressed.

"I hear a car engine," said Jim presently, though no one paid him much attention due to his delirium. However, about fifteen seconds after Jim announced what he heard, Daryl also heard the unmistakable low murmur of a vehicle approaching and he stood up halfway, poking his head around the corner of the bus to try and see down Gilpin Road. Coming at the walkers fast was the Ram Wagon with the headlights off, but Zeke was hanging halfway out of the driver seat, waving his arm frantically.

"Here he comes, get ready, people," said Daryl, taking a fistful of Jim's collar and dragging him out onto the street. As the Wagon cut through the walkers, the portion of them not crushed under the forward wheels began lumbering after it. Zeke performed a very dangerous maneuver and brought the vehicle right up alongside the bus, leaping out of the front seat to run around the back and help with their wounded. Together he and Merle heaved Dale onto the first step and then stuffed him unceremoniously into the second to last row of seats.

"Daryl, they're almost here," said Jim nonchalantly, pointing with a feeble hand at the walkers less than eight meters away from the Wagon.

"I'll hold them off, get him in!" shouted Zeke as he readied his shotgun once again.

Daryl lifted Jim by his belt loops and succeeded in getting his upper body inside their transport when a walker came at him from behind, reaching for his shoulder blade. Jim pulled the pistol serenely out of his belt and shot it point-blank in the face. The report rang out in Daryl's ears like he had just stuck his head up a giant bell and then had someone beat against it with a frying pan. He clapped his hands over his ears and fell to his knees, disoriented. Blinking furiously and trying to gather his wits, he saw Merle's outline jump into the front seat as Jim took hold of the front of Daryl's shirt and shook him with as much strength as he could muster. His hearing came back in his left ear first which was closest to his brother who was thundering at him, "Getcher ass in here, we gotta go!"

"Zeke…" said Daryl unevenly.

"Come on!" Dale hollered.

Trundling back towards the Wagon, Zeke was using the shotgun as a battering ram having lost his other two weapons. The walkers were only a few feet behind him and closing the distance fast. Zeke took the shotgun in both hands and swung it like a baseball bat as a walker tripped over its own feet and knocked his legs out from under him. As he fell, he hit his chin hard on the pavement and cupping his jaw, he tried to stand up again, but the same walker that had tripped him snatched at his ankle and held him there as more surrounded him. They were only about ten feet from the Wagon and so Daryl could clearly see a walker tear a long, fleshy bit of Zeke's cheek off.

He went numb, feeling a shock wave shoot down his legs right before he felt—nothing at all.

From what seemed like a great distance, Zeke screamed at him, "Go! Run, Daryl!"

Finding himself standing mere feet away from his friend and armed, Daryl started to make his way forward, but a lone hand wrapped around his wrist and grasped it tightly with long, spindly fingers. He gave a tug, but the hand held fast, refusing to relinquish its hold on him. It was Jim, holding him at bay and calling him back. Daryl tried to wrench himself free, but in the time it took for him to realize that it was Jim preventing him from going to Zeke's aid, Dale had also slid forward in his seat to put an arm across Daryl's throat and haul him back.

"Leggo've me, getcher fuckin' hands off've me, you bastards!" he roared, clawing at nothing as he heard Zeke screaming from right in front of him. There was still time, still a chance to rescue what was left of him…

Daryl heard the sound of a Browning Hi-Power go off and saw Zeke's extended hand drop down in unison with his head. It didn't register in his mind that it was Merle who had performed the mercy killing until he heard his brother tell Dale and Jim, "Keep hold've 'im, this is gonna be rough."

Merle pressed the pedal to the floor and though slow to start, the Ram Wagon built up enough power to part the walkers down the middle. A few stragglers grabbed onto the passenger door but Jim smacked them back with his shovel while still keeping a bloody hand on Daryl's wrist who couldn't quite come to terms with the awful _finality_ of Zeke's death. He had been at Daryl's side one moment loading Dale into the vehicle and the next having his face ripped into—then he was dead, put down by Merle and it was then that Daryl realized Merle hadn't done it for Zeke. Merle didn't give a flipping fuck about Zeke or anyone else in the camp; he had shot Zeke so that Daryl would stop fighting. In order to make up for all the ways in which he had wronged Daryl, Merle had put the bullet in Zeke's head so that his little brother could get away.

Daryl felt incredibly nauseous. What was he going to tell Sonya? _How_ was he going to tell her? How could he tell any of them what had happened? They all had volunteered to go, but it was the two men who Daryl thought would get themselves killed who had survived. The inexperienced, the feeble, and the frail had made it out, beating out all odds. And at what price?

For Andrea.

The two men who would have been most devastated by her death were the ones to survive and bring the supplies back to her. Daryl admitted to himself that he knew close to nothing about Rick or Zeke, but they had fought alongside one another when walkers attacked the camp, hadn't they? Rick had offered to go back and find Merle with him and Zeke had accepted him into the group more willingly than most of the others. No matter what Dale said, Daryl saw it as his fault for their deaths.

He had started the argument with Ed, leading to the tension between the bastard and Andrea which was why she needed supplies in the first place. He as good as killed Rick and Zeke when he offered to help Carol with the laundry down in the quarry and nothing anyone said could change that fact. Heaving, he leaned his head out of the Wagon and vomited alongside the road, feeling the soft breeze carry the regurgitation out of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, the last time he had drank, or slept. He was running on minus zero energy and suffering from an excess of feeling. Now he could see why Merle had tried to avoid caring about other people; the care never lasted. The people died and all anyone was left with was hurt once they were gone. While Daryl felt like his chest had been torn open and his heart hacked at with a dull potato peeler, Merle probably didn't feel one damn thing.

And so he envied his brother for his ability to shun mankind and block out what was natural for humans. Merle could act and not feel whereas Daryl had to feel in order to act. Perhaps Merle had raised him that way, shunning him so that he would learn to develop connections with those around him and care for them, something Merle had never been taught to do by their parents or anyone. In that sense, Merle was the best role model Daryl could possibly have had.

"They're going to be scared shitless back in camp," said Jim, scratching at his face with bloody fingernails. For once, he had more to say than Daryl.

"I'm sure they're just now deciding whether or not to send out a search party for us," said Dale from the seat above Daryl. His head looked strangely deflated without his light tan-colored hat and Daryl thought dully of how everyone would have to get used to that when he remembered that the older man had a navy blue spare.

"See, that's the problem with you people," said Merle disapprovingly from the front seat, "Y'don't get it that if people don't come back within six hours, they ain't comin' back at all."

"Thank you for the words of wisdom, Merle, but unlike you, the people at camp care about each other."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Merle proudly.

His words stirred Daryl up enough to snap, "Y'wouldn't know a compliment if it came up and bitcha in the ass."

"Oh, just give it a rest, both've you," Jim groaned wearily.

"That's how the Dixons git over any feelin's we got," said Merle, turning onto the dirt road leading into the mountains. Jim gave a repulsive-sounding noise in the back of his throat and put his hands on his wound.

"This ride's gonna kill me," he murmured.

"Better this than somethin' else," said Daryl without much conviction.

"Well, don't either of you worry about telling anyone anything," said Dale. "Neither of you are good at elegy-giving and you'll probably just make things worse. I'll do the talking one at a time. You two just get the supplies to Vin and then Jim, you're going to lay down and Daryl's going to get some food in his system."

"I ain't hungry," said Daryl queasily.

"You're hungry if I say you are," Dale snapped.

There was no point in arguing with him and Daryl didn't think he had the energy to come up with a good rebuttal anyway so he simply rested his head against the side of the Wagon, dreading the moment when they rolled into camp with two people less than they had sent out and one more that they didn't want back. He made the decision to keep his eyes down, speak to no one, and wait until he could sneak back to his tent until he let go of his crossbow.


	15. Chapter 15: One Handed

**This chapter is dedicated to my great-grandfather, Melvin Arthur Parrish, a WWII veteran in the battle of Okinawa, who passed away today, January 4, 2012 at the age of 90. My hero and my heart, I love you. And now the tattoo of you will commemorate you until my dying day when I will see you again…**

Merle took the backpack to Vin while Daryl helped Jim out first into Shane and Amy's waiting arms. Sedgwick and Morales assisted Dale in scooting out and then everyone noticed what Daryl was foolishly hoping they wouldn't. As one, Shane, Lori, Carl, Sedgwick, and Sonya turned their eyes on him and for the first time in his life, he wished that he were invisible, that people didn't care about him. Dale came to his rescue right on time.

"We were ambushed in the hospital and Rick—he saved us. Zeke ran back to the Wagon and drove it through the walkers that were blocking our way. When they overwhelmed us, he fought them back and as they got to him, he ended it for himself." Dale was the only expert at reading faces and so Daryl doubted anyone else notice his eyes flicker towards Merle as he told the white lie. "They were selfless and their deaths are no one's fault."

Daryl kept his eyes down, sagging back down onto the Ram Wagon's step. He realized that Lori, Carl, and Shane had lost Rick _twice_. His guilt tripled in the pit of his empty stomach, eating him alive until he felt that he could no longer stand it before his insides exploded.

"And you managed to find Merle," said Glenn. "Just where the hell did he come from?"

"He came out of nowhere and saved our asses, particularly mine," Dale defended. "Daryl carried Jim from the hospital to the van and Merle hauled me out of there like I was weightless. I wouldn't have made it back and I doubt any of us would have gotten out if he hadn't showed up when he did. I'm not making him into a hero; I'm just saying that he was there when we needed him."

Sonya gave a faint whimper and then buried her face in her hands. Sedgwick let go of Dale to put his arms around her and she sobbed into his chest as he ran a hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. Carl was at a loss for words and Lori pulled him to her, kissing his forehead as she grasped her son tightly. Shane left Jim standing unsteadily to console with them.

"It was my fault," said Jim suddenly, watching Lori and Carl with a strange expression on his face. "I wanted to go and they tried to stop me, but I went. I slowed everyone down; otherwise Rick would've gotten out in time and the others could've just carried Dale and made it to the van. But they had to waste time on me, gettin' me in the damn Wagon. I shouldda been the one t'get left behind. 'M'sorry, I'm so sorry…"

His hand moved towards his belt where he had stored his pistol for safekeeping, for this moment and he raised the nozzle to his head…

Daryl dropped his crossbow, soared out of the Wagon, and captured Jim's legs in his arms. Both of them hit the gravel with a crunch and Daryl put all the weight in one leg on Jim's wound, causing him to cry out. "Jim, take it easy, just calm down!" Daryl hollered as he forced Jim's hand open and threw the pistol away.

"Let go've me! You can't do that when it ain't your call t'make! That was my choice!"

"Naw, it was you talkin' rubbish and bullshit and y'need t'cut it out right now. You've lost blood and y'ain't in your right mind, now calm down. It's gonna be alright."

Amy knelt down next to Jim's head, removed his hat, and felt his cheek with her knuckles. "We should take him inside the RV." She and Daryl took the long, tedious steps to help Jim into his bed (which had been cleaned since Merle used it) and Dale started to treat his injury once he had reset his own ankle. On his way out the door he saw Lori waiting for him with her shimmering irises. He had half a mind to go back in and dive out the opposite window because he knew what he was in for and he was looking forward to it about as much as he was looking forward to telling Merle what had become of his drugs. But he did the respectful thing and said in a genuinely sorrowful voice, "'M'sorry, Lori, I-,"

But Lori threw her arms around Daryl's neck before he could finish, voice welling up with emotion as she said in a very quiet voice, "I don't blame you and you shouldn't either. You did what you could for him and that's all I could ask for, so thank you."

Caught completely off guard, Daryl gave her one or two gentle taps on the back and then she let go, wiping at her nose with her arm. Vin was under the tarp tending to Andrea and the others waited here and there for someone to give them something to do, for something to reassure them. However, Merle was standing apart, tracing a shape in the gravel with the heel of his boot.

"Try'n get some sleep," he told his older brother as he bent over the wash bucket to scrub the blood of the day off of his hands. Yawning, he dragged his feet back to his tent and put his face into his pillow, mumbling something distinguishable even to himself before rest found him at long last and he drifted into well-earned sleep.

When he opened one eye halfway he saw someone's back turned to him and then felt someone gently shake his shoulder. "Daryl…"

"Mmm?" he said groggily.

"Y'need t'git up."

"Why? Wazzmatter?" he asked, sounding extremely unintelligent.

"'Cuz iss one o'clock in the friggin' afternoon, thass why," said Merle, giving him a kick in the stomach to get him moving.

"Alright, I'm up, I'm up, now go 'way!" said Daryl, sitting up and holding his head.

"Old man's callin' f'you in the Winnebago, says that Jim guy wants t'talk t'you."

Standing up far too quickly, Daryl stumbled sideways and nearly took the tent wall out as he collapsed on all fours. Merle threw him from the tent by his collar, rebuking him for his carelessness. With a major headache reminiscent of the first time he had gotten drunk, he staggered into the Winnebago where Dale was hobbling around on a pair of crutches Shane had made for him. He used one of them to point into the back room where Jim was sitting up with his leg extended.

"They're diggin' some graves out there, fillin' 'em up with knickknacks and whatnot, but it's mostly quiet," said Jim when he saw Daryl.

"Yeah, great, but how y'doin'?" asked Daryl, rubbing his temples outward with his thumbs.

"Oh, I'm alright," said Jim modestly and then a remorseful look passed over his face as he motioned at his leg. "Dale sewed me up, but it's just a flesh wound like the knife stabs."

"Oh, right, f'got y'had them," said Daryl. "Where's Andrea?"

"In her tent, restin'," said Jim. "Vin says she's gonna be fine, but it'll take a while."

"And are the two've you—y'know, okay?" asked Daryl a bit awkwardly.

"Yeah, it's good." Jim's tone was expressionless as always, but Daryl got the feeling that there was a little bit more to it than what he was letting on. "Her, Dale'n me, we're not going anywhere anytime soon, so, uh, it'd be beneficial to the group if you stuck 'round for a while."

Daryl turned his eyebrows at Jim in confusion. "What, y'think I'mma leave? Y'think that after everythin' that's happened t'me in the past week that I'mma pick up'n head out?"

"Well, Merle did, and he told us that he was planning on leaving after you woke up," said Jim.

"He _what_?" Daryl thundered.

"Oh, I guess I shouldn'ta said that, but Andrea and Lori and Dale and Shane and Amy and-,"

"Everyone in the camp, I get it," said Daryl. "Get to the point already."

"They want you to stay," said Jim simply.

"So I can keep a watch on their asses?"

"No, people've grown attached to you since you been here and they want you to stick close. They said that if Merle wants to go that he can, but they're gonna try'n make you stay, no matter what."

"Mmhmm, and why'd they elect you spokesperson?" asked Daryl.

Jim shrugged. "I guess they figured that since I was gonna talk to you anyway…"

"Well all y'said t'me so far is that they're fillin' graves and they don't want me t'leave, so what d'you really have t'tell me?"

Jim held up his hand, now back to its original tan color in place of the red from the day before. Daryl took it and shook it up and down, still rather puzzled.

"It was my mistake, pullin' the gun out and it wouldn't've made things any better, so—thanks."

Daryl smirked. "Damn, Jim, I think that's the most I ever heard y'say at one time. Keep this up and we'll have you speakin' in more'n ten full sentences by fall."

Jim spared him a partial smile, something he probably hadn't even done since he had banded together with the other survivors to form the campsite. Daryl backed out of the room and dashed over to where Merle was fixing himself a backpack in front of their tent.

"'Bout time, too," he said moodily as Daryl approached. He had a rifle strung over his shoulder and a bat tucked into a harness on his back.

"Where's you knife?" Daryl asked him, nodding at the empty scabbard still hooked to Merle's belt.

Merle unlatched it and dropped it in the dirt. "Don't need it no more, that asshole who's always gettin' 'imself knee-deep in shit'll prob'ly need it more'n me. But I'm all packed now, so I'll be headin' out."

"T'do what? Just where the hell are you gonna go on foot?"

"Oh, I'm goin' back t'where I left m'bike, and then I'mma head west, see what's out there, y'know?"

"You'll get y'self bitten or killed and y'know it, dumbass. I didn't go through hell t'get y'from that building y'got left on so that you could walk out on me…_again_."

"Aw, shaddap, kid. Y'got a good thing goin' on here with these people. They seem t'like you, which is more'n I can say. You'll be juss fine so I don't gotta worry 'boutchoo."

"Merle, when have y'_ever_ worried 'bout me?"

"Good question, bro, so I guess that gives ya incentive t'not worry 'bout me none either, huh? What is it y'said 'bout me? I'd crap out nails if y'fed me a hammer? Well, even with one hand I can still pull that off. But y'know me; I can't stay tied down in no place f'too long, and I already been here a lil' over a month, so iss time f'me t'be headin' out. And this time you can't tag 'long."

Daryl was prepared to put up an amazingly strong argument, but recalled his words to Rick, claiming that his brother was a stubborn, tough-as-nails hard-ass who couldn't be changed in his ways and anyone who tried was just wasting their time. He had plenty of time to waste, but he knew his brother better than anyone else and figured that if this was the last time he was going to see him, he'd better end it on a good note instead of one with Merle being annoyed at him.

"Well, then, you'd better get goin' b'fore it gets too dark."

"Just like that?" asked Merle. "No tearful goodbyes? No arguments?"

"Nope, I got nothin'. And y'told me that if I ever cried if front've ya, you'd kick my ass."

"Yeah, I did say that, huh? Good t'see at least y'listened t'somethin' I said."

"Beat it, bro, 'b'fore your ugly face starts wellin' up."

Merle held out his left hand, his _only_ hand and Daryl wrung it.

"See ya 'round, kid."

"Yeah, see ya."

Merle swung the backpack strap over his shoulder and started off down the trail, kicking up dirt as he went and Daryl went the other way, whistling out loud so that he was sure that the sound would follow Merle until he was at least two miles down the trail and well on his way.

And Merle hated whistling.


End file.
